Serendipity
by Onceforthefun
Summary: <html><head></head>They'd been planning the trip for over a year. After Graduation, Santana and Brittany were supposed to take a cross-country trip before the real world claimed them and they ran off to college. When they find out that Brittany doesn't have enough credits to graduate high school, everything changes, but sometimes not having a plan, is even better.</html>
1. Lawn Ornaments

Serendipity

It was humid, and sticky, and not even officially the first day of summer, yet, and already the heat was oppressive. I was wearing close to nothing, and even that was too much. I flicked my hair off my shoulders, practically wilting beneath the added heat the long strands caused, seriously contemplating what I would look like with a shorter cut, because wearing it down wasn't an option in this heat. Seriously, it felt like my soul was melting out through my pores. The thought that it could get any hotter was discomforting, and the pressing thought that in two months time I would be down in Louisville, in even more oppressive heat, attempting to do routines to cheer on a bunch of thick-necked beef cakes who actually won every now and then, it almost made me want to throw up. I seriously thought that I was done cheering, but apparently life, and my girlfriend, had other plans.

The only light at the end of the tunnel for me was that in three days' time me and Brittany would be taking our cross country trip, hopefully touching all four corners of the U.S. I was particularly looking forward to Maine, because it didn't get hot there right? We were taking my car, a no-frills 2005 steel gray, Mazda Tribute, that my parents had surprised me with two weeks after my sixteenth birthday. It was a nice little gift considering I wasn't expecting anything at all. Money wasn't exactly tight with us, but we weren't rolling in it, either. We were firmly middle class. Dad was a private practice doctor, a family physician, with years' worth of student loans, and a sky high mal practice insurance bill, and my mom was the manager of her sister's restaurant. We had enough, but nothing fancy. Pretty much we had what just about everyone else in Lima had; enough to get by, not enough to thrive.

In the glove compartment of Lola-it was the name Brittany had given my car-was our maps of the US, separated by region, and marked with all of the places that we wanted to see. Some were ridiculous, like the World's Largest Ball of Twine, which Brittany wanted to see because Lord Tubbington couldn't come on the trip with us, some were typical, like the Grand Canyon and Niagara Falls, one stop was just so we could go to a Bruno Mars concert, because Brittany loved him, and I couldn't say no to her pout, and the rest were just there. Places on the way to somewhere else that looked like it would be a nice place to stop. We had been planning this trip for a whole year, since even before we were officially a couple. It was going to be the road trip to end all road trips. Brittany had even been clever enough to look up places with open mic's so that I could perform along the way. When she did things like that, it made me believe that I could love her forever.

"Mija," mom questioned. "Why are you sitting under a tree?"

"Because you guys haven't seen the benefit of putting in a swimming pool," I teased, my retort coming automatically. Thanks to Puck, I knew every single unattended swimming pool in Lima, but I didn't want to extend the effort it took to go swim in someone else's pool, and the public pool was a joke. Mike had his own swimming pool, but Mike's parents were always around. _Always_. Even when they weren't there, their presence lingered, and you could feel the disapproval coming from them, as if we even breathed the same air as their golden child, we'd make him 2 IQ points dumber. The Changs liked mediocrity, almost as much as they liked Mike dating Tina, see not at all.

"Where's Brittany?"

"She's babysitting." I patted the ground. "Thus the tree."

Normally, I'd be checking my car, just to make sure that it still worked. I was paranoid that it was going to break down on me before our trip. I only vaguely knew what did what underneath the hood, but just popping the hood, checking the oil to make sure that it was still at the right levels, and topping off the wiper fluid, made me feel like I was actually doing something, or knew what I was doing. If it wasn't so damned hot, I'd practice my tire changing skills one more time.

"Mija, you have only a few more days left in Lima before you go on your trip, don't you think that you should be making the most of it?"

I rolled into a particularly cool spot of grass, and sighed at the pure bliss of it. "I am," I assured her.

She shook her head, in what seemed like disappointment. "I'm going to the restaurant. See you later, mjia. If you feel like not being such a lazy bones, I'm sure tia could use you."

"Bye mami."

She left without another word. Mami's been trying to get me to work at Tia Cecilia's place for forever. It was kind of like this never ending fight. Both my parents have been working steadily since they were 15 years old. You hear all the time about parents who grew up hard not wanting their children to have to do the same, but that wasn't true for my parents. Not that they wanted me to grow up hard, per se, but even with Glee, and cheerleading, and my mostly Bs, and every thing else I did in high school, they still wanted me to work. Every time I asked dad for money, he'd ask me how much time I spent at Tia's. No matter what I answered, usually he'd give me the money, anyway, but not before he made his point. I get it, wanting to instill a work ethic in your children, but all papi and mami did was work. And for what? They were missing out on their lives and didn't even realize it.

"It's lucky you're not wearing green, otherwise the gardener might run over you." The statement came several hours after my mom left.

I cocked an eye open, because I recognized the voice, but otherwise didn't move. "That's original."

Quinn stood over me, looking down on me. "How long have you been laying there? Is this any way to spend your last summer before college?"

"Yea?" I challenged. "What have you been up to?"

"Your mom," she quipped. My other eye opened because Quinn was not the kind of girl to make 'yo' mama' jokes. She thought they were crude. Quinn lowered herself to the ground. I tried not to notice how she winced at her body's movements, but it was hard. Quinn shouldn't have danced at Nationals. She'd known that at the time, but hadn't listened, and no one but me knew the toll it had put on her body; it had put her back in her wheel chair for a whole week.

"How's your back?"

"I'll live," she responded. "How much longer?"

"Three days. Just as soon as Berry and Lurch get married."

Quinn seamlessly rolled over, plucking at strands of grass. "I don't think that they are. Getting married," she elaborated.

"What do you mean? According to Berry, this is what she's waited for, for her whole life. You're fit as a fiddle, ready to dance her away into mediocrity, and Finn's all set to ride her all the way to fame. Why wouldn't they be getting married?"

Quinn lifted her pile delicately in her hands and placed them on my exposed stomach. It tickled. "I think Finn's having doubts. He came and talked to me."

"How long did that take?"

Quinn lightly tapped my stomach. "Shut up. I know you hate him, justifiably so, but since we both kind of…feel strongly…about Rachel, he came and talked to me about her. Turns out he can feel guilt after all."

"Well, that's a miracle. I didn't know he was capable of human emotions…really of doing anything other than grunt."

"Be nice."

I snorted. "Why? He's never been nice to me."

Quinn blew the blades of grass she'd been collecting, smiling in my face as she did so. "Because I command it, and my word is law."

That earned Quinn a mega eye-roll. "High school's over, Blondie. You're command of me is officially at an end."

A curious look took over Quinn's face before she rolled, straddling me. "High school might be over, but don't forget that I'll _always_ be on top."

We both started laughing at the same time. I didn't fight her, so Quinn stayed where she was, both of us comfortable enough with each other that this position wasn't awkward. I put my feet flat against the ground so she would have something to lean against. "Only cause I allow it," I returned. "Always remember, you didn't knock me down, I gave you a hand up."

Quinn shook her head. "I can't believe that I spent so much time worrying about being the top, the head, the one everyone wanted to be."

"I can't either when you should have just accepted defeat early on and crowned me victorious!" Quinn got a look on her face like she was tempted to expound on just how much ahead of me she ended. I may have ended my high school career being the captain of the Cheerios, and have _two_ national titles beneath my belt, but she still had that Yale thing to lord over me; plus she was still McKinley's sweetheart, and I hadn't ended with too many friends outside of Glee. But then, neither had she. And I might have been going off to UL instead of an Ivy League school, but I had Brittany which meant I won, right?

"I know I offered to bathe you back to this Quinn," I flicked a strand of hair in case she didn't know what I was talking about, "but I liked pink haired Quinn. It would have been nice to go through four years of high school with her."

Quinn's eyes gave away her pleasure at hearing that statement. "Yea?"

I nodded. "I would give up half of the back stabbing, if it meant having my best friend all four years."

Quinn quirked an eyebrow. "Just half?"

"Yeah, some of it was necessary. So, back to tale of the Hobbit and the Giant? You kind of didn't finish it, and you know how much I'm _dying _to hear how it ends."

"Oh. Sometimes he does think of people that aren't himself. He said that he can't just let her do it; give up everything to be with him."

Took him long enough, but I was sure that the reasoning wasn't selfless. Finn wasn't capable of that. "Huh. Well…damn. A fine time for him to make that realization! Brittany and I could have been long gone."

"That's what you're focusing on? No concern about Rachel essentially getting jilted at the altar, _again_, just that you and Brittany could have left sooner?"

"What should I be worried about? Rachel and Finn getting married is a terrible idea, but Rachel's the cross you like to bear, not me. I like Rachel, sometimes I might even consider her to be my friend, but she's going to make her own decisions in life, and she's too stubborn to listen to anyone but herself, and possibly you. I think it's great that Finn cares enough about her to not go through with this, but I think he's taking the coward's way out if he's not going to talk to her about it before this weekend, which it doesn't sound like he's going to do. Rachel deserves a conversation, not a kiss off."

"Was that really so hard to say?" Quinn questioned once I was finished. "See, you can use your words." I grunted. "Besides, why are you so anxious to go anyway?"

"Because our summer's awaiting!" I said grandly. I just knew that something was waiting for me on the other end of this summer, but what, I wouldn't know until I made it to the other side of it.

"Okay, but have you taken any time to think about the fact that this isn't _just_ your last summer with Brittany, but that this is your last summer with Glee? With Mercedes, and Puck, and Sam, and your parents, and-,"

"You?"

"I was wondering how many people you were going to make me go through before you said that."

"Rachel will see to it that we keep up with each other over the years," I said dismissively.

"That's not the same as what we had in high school."

"No, but things move on. I'm not too worried about missing anything with the Glee Club. My parents?" I shrugged. "I'll always be their daughter."

Uncertainty and doubt flickered gently on Quinn's face. "And us?"

"Do you really think we're ever going to go out of touch?"

"Junior year?"

"We were there for each other when it counted. We'll always be there for each other. We're like a boxed set, babe, together forever."

Quinn played with the hem of my shirt. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Q, you're straddling me and you need to _ask _if you can ask a question?"

"Why didn't you invite me on your road trip? The Unholy Trinity could have gone out with a bang."

She gave a gentle smile. One that was nothing like her usual smirk, or her fake, perfect life smile, which did kind of make me feel guilty that we didn't invite her. We were going to. When we first started planning the trip, when Brittany and I weren't a couple, but just two friends soaking what very well have been the last summer that we were best friends, it had crossed our mind.

We had a list: Puck, definitely, because if he didn't manage to get us arrested, he would make everything far more interesting, and he had the best hook-ups. Mike because he was hilarious, and the world's biggest goofball, and because we were going to big cities, and Mike let it slip out sophomore year that he would love to do a street performance at least once in his life time. Tina didn't make the cut because she was a junior, Rachel got nixed because I just couldn't sit through a summer listening to her sing show tunes and talk about Finn. Lauren was a no go because I didn't think she'd fit in the car (so I _may_ still be a little bitter by the fact that she's still the only person who ever took me down). The trip was too far outside of Mercedes comfort zone, and she had a semi-rational fear of breaking down in backwoods small towns, especially down south. Finn, just no. And Quinn? Quinn would always be the third part of our trio, but the trip just didn't feel like her kind of thing. If we'd invited Puck and Mike, then we would have extended her a courtesy invitation, but then we decided to keep it as something that was just ours, so we didn't invite anyone along at all.

"Cause Britt and I started dating. When we first started planning things out, we thought about inviting everyone, make it a Glee trip, but then we decided that we just wanted this to be _our _thing. Besides, are you going to leave Puck?"

Quinn laughed. "Next time, then," she said, though we both knew that there would be no next time, that there might be a chance that the next time we saw each other was at a Glee reunion several years down the road, where our faces would be foreign to each other, and our voices only vaguely familiar, and where we'd struggle to find something that would still connect us to each other. But I simply nodded in agreement, because who knew what was in the future for us.

I was convinced, the way dreamers often are, that this summer was going to make me as an artist. That somewhere along the route, I would get discovered, or realization would come to me, so I didn't make plans for after. My dad wouldn't have minded me being a doctor, but I didn't want nearly a million dollars in student loan debt, and in order to be a surgeon (I didn't have the temperament or bedside manner to be a family doctor, or something like an OB/GYN) that was four years of undergrad (that my parents could hardly afford), four years of med school (that my parents _really_ couldn't afford), and six years of residency where I would be making just enough to make the minimum monthly payments on all of those loans, and I wouldn't get to have a life outside of the hospital. That was 14 years of my life that I wouldn't even get to live. It just wasn't for me.

My only problem was I didn't know what _was_ for me. Mr. Schue's pathetic lesson didn't clear that up for me; I spent practically my whole senior year trying to figure that out. 1% of the population made it in the entertainment industry. If I had to compete against Berry, and I didn't best _her_, how was I supposed to compete against everyone else out there trying to do the exact same thing? I had a nice voice, but was it good enough to hang a future on? I was good looking, but was it something that could be my career? And if there was one thing that Quinn's freak accident had taught me was that everything you thought you had could be taken from you in just a matter of seconds. What if I put all of my eggs in a basket, and an elephant sat on them? Shit happens.

Quinn reached for my hand. "I hope you have the trip of your lives, and you find whatever it is you're looking for out there on the road, Santana."

We fell into a comfortable silence, me and my sometimes best friend. The way she was sitting couldn't be the most comfortable position for her, and for me it just brought more body heat that I seriously didn't need, but I didn't tell her to get her fat ass off of me, and she didn't seem to feel the need to move.

"I just can't believe it's over," I said. "High school. I know you probably spent every waking moment, praying for the day it would end, but I liked school. You know how I feel about drama, and McKinley had it in spades, you know how I feel about winning, and I've done that, I…ah hem…like learning, and some days I did that too, and I liked Glee. I know where I stand in Lima, at McKinley. Where am I going to stand in the real world?"

"On the edge of the South Rim of the Grand Canyon?" Quinn said cheekily.

"They don't worship cheerleaders at Louisville the way they do here. Coach Sue won't control the school. I can't throw slushies in someone's face to make them cower before me."

"When's the last time you threw a slushie _here?_ Face it, Lopez, you've always been a softie, but now you're showing it to the world. And what are you worried about? The game is going to change, but it's still the same game."

"But it's not easy to play when you don't know what piece you are anymore. I'm not 'never say no', Lopez. I'm not the closet lesbian, mean, Lima Heights Adjacent bitch. I'm not the girl who would cut a hoe just to get to the top. Those were roles I played because I was good at them, but they were all just roles."

I could tell that my words resonated with Quinn, and whatever thoughts she had hidden behind those eyes. "How about you just play yourself, and take this summer to figure out what that means?"

"And what about you, Yoda?"

"What about me?"

"You're sitting over there with all of your wisdom, but you've forgotten that I know how to read your eyes."

She trained those eyes on me. "Me? I'm going to spend the summer with Puck, read my books for the fall so I can get ahead of the curve, and figure up a game plan for the next four years."

"Planning on tackling Yale the way you did McKinley?"

"I made a promise that I'd finish top of my class. Gotta stick to that, don't I?"

I was starting to feel kind of bad for not including Quinn on our road trip. Sure it was me and Brittany's thing, but if I didn't look out for her, who would? Everyone always assumed that Quinn had everything worked out, mostly because she gave off that impression and didn't really know how to ask for help, but she didn't. Not even close. Quinn was great at following other people's game plans, but left to her own devices, that's when you got pink haired Quinn. Spontaneity didn't work well for my best friend.

"You're not allowed to start worrying about me, San," Quinn said, quickly.

"Who says I'm wasting my time worrying about you, Fabray?" I sneered.

"I do."

"Get over yourself. I do _not _waste my time on you. You know what I think you should do?"

Quinn gave me an eye roll. "What's that?"

"I think you and Rachel should hang out together this summer. If you're thinking that Finn's going to really give her the big kiss off to New York, then that means she's probably going to get lonely. Maybe you two can work out some _things_ between you," I said suggestively.

"Fuck you," Quinn said with a smile.

"Sorry, toots, I'm taken. If I was single, I'd be all for it."

Quinn frowned and smiled at the same time. "I'm going to miss you," she whispered.

"Are you getting all sappy on me now, Fabray?"

Quinn kind of kicked my arm. "Oh, just shut up and take it like a woman. For once we can be open about our feelings. You're my best friend, Santana, and I'm going to miss you, so give me this, okay?"

I felt myself nodding. It was quiet for a little while before I admitted, "I'm going to miss you, too."

Eventually Quinn must have climbed down from my lap, because I woke up stretched out flat on my back with Quinn stretched out beside me, feet in my face. Familiar blonde hair and blue eyes blocked out the sun, staring down at us with a smile. I jumped up, quickly getting to my feet. "Hey, Britts!"

Brittany greeted me with a tired smile but an energetic kiss. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Quinn roll over, and stretch, I guess my movements woke her up. "How was your day?"

"Those kids," Brittany started, but didn't finish. I knew the end of the statement, though, because the Jensen kids were usually either complete devils or complete angels, depending on the day. Today was the devil day.

"I know what might make it better…," I began leadingly. I tugged on her shirt. "How about we watch a rom com, and I'll massage it all away? It can even be a Nicholas Sparks movie."

Brittany gave a smile, but it wasn't one of her eye smiles. "You are so good to me, Sanny, but can we have a rain check on that? I just came over to give you some sweet kisses before I head home."

I frowned, pouting. "But I haven't got to see you all day."

Brittany placed double kisses on my puckered lips. "I'll make it up to you," she promised. "Tomorrow you'll have me for the full day, and anyway you and Q you could use some catch up time."

"Fine," I whined. Brittany kissed me again, before she disappeared back out the gate. Once she was gone, and I got over my disappointment, I slapped Quinn on the thigh. "Come on, Fabray!" I shouted, extending a hand to her.

Quinn scowled, still waking up apparently. "Come on, what?"

"You heard my girl. We've gots some bonding to do. So popcorn, and movies, my choice."

Quinn's scowl deepened, but she let me help her up, and we spent the rest of the evening pigging out in the den, and watching cheesy B films on Netflix.


	2. Dear Old Shiz

Brittany showed up first thing in the morning, wearing nothing else but a skimpy periwinkle two-piece, and a sheer gray cover-up that didn't cover up much of anything. "Britts," I hissed, when I saw her at the front door, in my mind thinking about all of the people that were privy to an early morning peep show of my girlfriend. "Where're your clothes?"

She looked down in confusion at what she was wearing. "They're on, aren't they? Isn't today the pool party at Ray's?"

I chuckled. "Yeah, B, but the party's not till 3:00."

"Oh," she shrugged, carelessly. "Well, this way I won't have to change."

"Why are you over so early?" Not that I was complaining. And now that I was over the shock, I was very appreciative in her choice of clothing. If my mom wasn't home, and if she hadn't mentioned that Quinn was on her way over, I would have been shedding her clothes and showing her how much I appreciated her choice of outfit.

Brittany kissed me tenderly. "Am I too early? I told you that I was yours for the day." Quickly, I shook my head. She gave a knowing smile. "I didn't think I would be." She attached her lips to my neck and gently nibbled as her hand slid underneath my shirt. "Is it too early for this?" she husked, seductively. I swear no one could turn me on with just her voice like my girlfriend could.

"My mom's home," I reminded her.

She smiled at the fact that I wasn't wearing a bra, her finger tracing the skin underneath my breast. "Well then, you'll just have to be really, really quiet." She brought her face closer to mine, her ears to my lips. "_Really_."

Before things could get too hot between us, my mom shouted up the stairs, "Mija, Quinn's here!"

We jerked back from each other at the sound of my mom's voice. "What's Quinn doing here so early?" I demanded.

Brittany hit herself on the side of the head. "Oh, I forgot! I texted her on my way over for her to come over, too."

"Why?" Not that I didn't want to see Quinn, but me and Brittany were about to get into something.

Brittany giggled. "Because we're a threesome, silly! And I don't want her to be lonely."

I was about to protest, to remind her that she wasn't, that she had Puck, but Brittany slipped a finger into my pants, and before I had time to get a handle on what she was doing, she had already slid her finger through my folds, out of my pants, and into her mouth, where they still were when Quinn opened the door.

Without missing a beat, Brittany placed a quick kiss on my lips before she turned around and exclaimed, "Quinnie!" She bounced over to Quinn and placed a kiss on her lips, and I prayed there wasn't some of me lingering on them. "San and I were just about to get busy!" She announced it the way someone else might announce that they were going to watch a football game.

Quinn had spent enough time around Brittany to not be startled by it; actually, I was impressed. She just gave a shrug of her shoulders and rolled with it. "I can come back."

Brittany's hand dropped to hold Quinn's in her own, and she batted her eyes at our friend. "You don't have to; you're always welcome to watch." She winked. "Or join."

I missed the days when statements like that would make Quinn blush bright pink, but she had known us for far too long. "No, thanks, Britt," she said kindly, "but it was kind of you to offer." Quinn, always the polite one.

Brittany merely shrugged, leaving me to wonder if she would really be that cavalier about a threesome between us. Not that it would be that big of a stretch for the imagination, or out of character for either of us. We had all kissed each other before, and Quinn had been in the room when Brittany and I have had sex. Twice. One time she had been awake for it. Not to mention that Brittany and I had been involved in more than one threesome before, but all of that was before we were officially dating. I looked over at Quinn in a silent evaluation of her blank expression. She merely offered me a look that translated into 'It's Brittany', and I nodded my agreement. My girl really was one of a kind.

We spent the morning as carefree as we had our freshman year of high school: painting each other's nails, braiding hair, watching movies, flipping through magazines, and discussing whatever it was that was going on between Quinn and Puck. At 3:00 on the dot, Quinn and I changed into our bathing suits. I wore my favorite one: a pink and black two-piece that actually covered up a lot more than most would expect from me. It was my favorite because while it covered up everything, it did so just barely, and it was still very sexy in my opinion. And Puck's, who gave me his coveted 'damn Lopez' look when he saw me in it, which meant the suit was still perv. approved. Quinn wore an all black one-piece that had strategically placed holes that showed off plenty of skin, but still covered up the scars from the accident. She killed in it.

When we arrived, fashionably late of course, most of the other Gleeks were already there. The skimpiest swimsuit unsurprisingly went to Tina. It, too, was a one-piece but had less material than any of the two pieces on display. Brittany, who believed Tina was seriously kinky in the bedroom, and wanted to get the girl in a threesome for the past two years, was very appreciative. To no one's shock, Berry wore a sailor girl swim dress tankini complete with a flapper hat. Mercedes' suit was unexpected because it was a two-piece halter, which was kind of out of character for her, but she wore it proudly, one of the first to take her clothes off and dive into the pool.

It was a matter of minutes before she was joined in the water. People partnered up and a game of chicken was started. "Come on, B, let's show them how we do this!"

Brittany swam over to me. "No mercy," she growled before I crawled onto her shoulders. There was a sudden squeal before Mercedes rose into the air, a mop of blonde hair appearing in between her legs. "Sam!" she was squealing, as the two of them worked to steady her on his capable shoulders. He placed a kiss on her leg. "Let's do this!" he roared. We moved into the center of the pool, and because things couldn't progress without Rachel being involved, she became the referee. I wasn't looking for her, but my eyes fell on Quinn, who was sitting stretched out on the lounger, a book in her hand. Her shades covered her eyes, and I wondered if she was reading, or surveying. Quinn never seemed to have a problem with coming to the parties, but she was always separate from the action, no matter the space.

She inclined her head in my direction, answering my question, seconds before Berry cried, "Go!" And it was on. I kind of expected it to be an easy victory. Mercedes and Sam had more weight on me and Brittany, but I was counting on Mercedes unsteadiness to be her down fall. Mercedes kept listing, but Sam held tightly. After about a minute, I realized that our easy victory was slipping from my grasp, which I was not cool with. So I curled a finger into the space in Mercedes side, in her super secret, haven't touched since 4th grade, tickle spot. Success! "Santana!" she giggled, yelled, swaying, but she wasn't going to go down without blood, because she latched on to me tightly, and pulled me down with her.

We all came crashing into the pool with an amazing splash that I swear emptied a quarter of the water. I was laughing and about to crow when I heard the words:

"Winner: Sam and Mercedes!"

"What?" I demanded, at the same time Sam threw his fist in the air, waiting for a high-five from Mercedes. "I knocked her down, Berry!"

"You entered the water first!"

"That's bullshit!"

"Samcedes wins the round!"She said firmly.

Brittany laughed in my ear, stroking my hair. "Well get them next time, babe," she assured.

Kurt and Finn faced off against Blaine and Puck next while Mike watched the grill. Mercedes and Sam found themselves a spot off to the side, and were making out against the pool wall. The sight had me searching for my girlfriend, who was now swimming leisurely with Artie, his chest surprisingly tan. Artie at pool parties was probably like the only time that his presence didn't annoy the shit out of me. Artie in the water was probably the most freeing experience he had ever felt, and it showed on his face. In the water he wasn't the only one in Glee confined to a wheelchair. Watching him for a second, the thought occurred to me that maybe Quinn wasn't just being anti-social, but was avoiding the rough stuff so as not to hurt her back.

Chicken ended, other games began, some people swam, I got pulled into a swim relay race, which we killed, Puck and Finn got into an argument about the grill, and the sun moved imperceptibly across the sky. Seeing Brittany occupied, I grabbed two beers and headed in Quinn's direction. I crashed onto the lounge beside her. "What's on your mind?"

Quinn's sunglass covered face turned to look at me. "Wicked."

I angled one of the beers towards her. She shook her head. "The musical?" I questioned, confused. Rachel had managed to sneak every single one of the songs into one of Mr. Schuster's lessons during the year, so I was far more aware of it than I should have been, but why Quinn was thinking about that in this particular moment, was beyond me. Was she thinking about ways to get into Rachel's pants? The sailor swimsuit must be getting to Quinn.

"No, the book," she replied.

"And why is that on your mind?"

Quinn shrugged. I regretted the sunglasses because it made it harder to gain a read on her. Quinn could mask her facial expressions, but her eyes were oh so very telling. "There's this scene where all of these students at Shiz, it's the college they go to, get together. They're like us, kids who hated each other in the beginning, but become friends towards the end, and they get together one day, just any regular day, and it turns out that that's the last time that they're ever together; they just didn't know it then."

It didn't take a rocket scientist to string along Quinn's meaning, but it was a minute or two before I responded. "You worried this is the last time we're all going to get together like this?"

Quinn looked at me earnestly. "Aren't you?"

I stared down at my drink, because it gave my eyes somewhere to look while I thought it over. When I brought my gaze up, it was to take in the scene before me. Rachel was unsurprisingly tucked into Finn's side, Brittany and Mike were dancing while Tina and Mercedes stood by and watched, laughing and talking loudly, probably very drunk. Puck was doing some demonstration to Sam, who kept glancing over towards Brittany and Mike, or maybe it was Mercedes. Artie was chatting with Sugar, and Kurt and Blaine were standing near Rachel and Finn, but in their own little world. I could understand some of Quinn's sentiment.

"I'm just taking it all in." Quinn's voice startled me from the scene, and I looked back at her. "In case this is the last time it happens. Us, here, like this." Quinn's expression was wide open and easy to read. "You guys are pretty much all I've got," she said with a shrug. "Tomorrow, Rachel'll be in New York. The day after you and Brittany are heading out, Finn's going to Boot Camp, Puck and Mercedes are going off to Los Angeles, in the Fall I'll be in New Haven, Mike's going to Chicago…everyone's going somewhere. You guys…you're what I get to take-away from high school. I'm just trying to hold on for just a little while longer."

I thought about making a jab, it was usually what I made in this type of situation so I didn't have to think about the way it would make me feel, but that Santana was buried along with the end of McKinley High. "Stay here," I directed. I dashed out to my car, surprised no one else had done so, and got my camera. It had recently been dumped, so the memory card was fresh, and in preparation for the road trip the battery was fully charged. I dropped it proudly in Quinn's lap. "There!" I said, triumphantly. "Now you don't have to worry about this moment ever ending!"

Almost as soon as the record button came on, and the Gleeks caught on to what was going on, the camera passed hands, and everyone got some face time. Another fight sprung up about the grill, food came off of it, and we sat down to eat, all of us semi-circling around each other. Rachel talked about the wedding tomorrow, and for the first time I saw it, the look in Finn's eye. It was the look of a man who was grasping on to a love that had already left him. Quinn wasn't kidding.

The more I drank, the more I started to feel what Quinn was saying. Things I noticed: the way Sam's hand would occasionally brush against Mercedes and how she didn't bat it away even though they weren't 'together' anymore, the way Tina would throw longing looks at Mike, the way Artie seemed desperate to be heard in conversation, the way Puck kept his hand tucked in his belt loops until Quinn meandered toward him, and the two of them gave each other sly smiles and lingering touches. It was like we all knew, to some extent, that this was it for us.

Me and Brittany made eye contact, and she danced her way over to me. "What up's, duck?" she questioned, giving me that smile that melted my heart, followed by a kiss that melted my insides.

I smiled back because how could you be worried about anything else when this woman was in front of you? "My blood alcohol level," I joked.

Brittany seemed to be testing something in my gaze. "Nah, you're not drunk yet, I still have all my clothes on."

I grinned. "That's an easy fix. Who wants to play circle of death?" I shouted, and my fellow Gleeks did not disappoint. If this really was going to be it for us, might as well have things end with a bang!

* * *

><p>I woke up to Quinn pressed into my back and Rachel, of all people, snuggled into my front. This was so not right, in so many ways, and I wanted to move, but Mercedes was halfway covering my legs, her face pressed almost intimately close in Quinn's lap. And where the hell was Brittany? I searched my alcohol addled brain to try to figure out how this scenario happened, and came up blank. My movement seemed to cause my bedmates to wake up, too. As Quinn sat up, I saw her hand pulled from Mercedes' cheek, and I wondered how I missed the fact that her hand had been resting there.<p>

Rachel looked up at me, and instead of looking disgusted or scampering to get away from the big bad Santana Lopez, she gazed curiously at me, shrugged, and attempted to burrow more into me. There are many after party scenarios that I could get with, but this? "Ew…Berry." I scampered off of the bed as quickly as my legs would allow. "No, just no! Bad girl!"

"I'm not a dog, Santana, and after last night…"

"Wait, what happened last night?"

I looked down, surprised to find myself dressed in one of Berry's t-shirts and a pair of shorts that were so short they could hardly qualify as shorts.

She looked perplexed. "You don't remember?"

"No, I don't fucking remember. What happened?" My head swung around to the others who were in different states of awake.

"Maybe you _shouldn't_ tell her, Rachel," Quinn said leadingly. "She was pretty drunk, after all."

"No, tell me right now!" I demanded. Rachel's eyes got real wide. "Rachel!" I demanded.

"Well, we played seven minutes, and it was me and you, and I was nervous, so you told me that you kind of always had a secret thing for me, and that you would make me feel really good, and go as slow as I needed."

_What the fuck! _"And then after our seven minutes were up, we were both really turned on…so we came up to my room to…continue where we left off. You said it wouldn't be cheating because it'll be my bachelorette gift."

I could feel the color draining from my features. "The fuck I did!" I hissed. There was no freaking way I had sex with Rachel Berry! _Right_?

Rachel looked flat out confused, biting on her lip. She looked like she might cry. "I don't understand, Sannie. You said it was one of the best nights of your life, and now you're acting like it meant nothing to you. Mercedes said you would, and it all meant nothing, but the way you looked at me. You even screamed my name."

There was a loud snort behind me, and Rachel allowed herself a smile. I reached down for the closest pillow and I hit Rachel with it. "You fuckers!" I hissed.

"She really had you going for a minute there," Quinn guffawed, dodging my blows.

"Whatever. I didn't believe it for a second. I haven't gotten drunk enough yet to fall into bed with you, Hobbit," I snapped.

"R-ray, ay dios, Joder Rachel," Berry panted, her eyes rolling back in her head, and for someone who only had Finn Hudson as a sexual partner, it wasn't a bad impression of someone enjoying sex…still, no.

"Ew," I hissed, pushing past her. "Not even funny. You're all on my shit list now!" I started to stomp out the room, but stumbled, slightly, when Rachel slapped me on my ass. There was laughter behind me, and I scowled, but ignored them as I walked out of the room intent on finding my girlfriend so we could leave.

I found Brittany in the Berry's kitchen, surrounded by a variety of cooking materials, plates, and dishes, and wearing one of Berry's sleep dresses, I was hoping underwear, and no bra. The dress was already short, but on Brittany, it was about the same length of our Cheerio skirts. I was mostly consoled and only slightly disappointed when I noticed that she had on underwear. I admired the view, especially when she started dancing along to the radio. I loved watching her dance.

I giggled. "What're you doing down here, B?"

She tossed a smile over her shoulder. "I'm cooking, silly!"

"I can see that," I said, wrapping a possessive arm around her waist. "Why?"

"Because it's Ray's wedding day!" I knew that Brittany had a soft spot that I couldn't share for Rachel but really that kind of enthusiasm for the girl was making my jaw ache.

"What's that got to do with us, B? Let's go back to my place. I do remember you saying something about making it up to me…"

Brittany pulled slightly away. "It's her big day, San!" Her voice was noticeably less playful. "We can get our lady kisses on later."

"Fine," I huffed. I sat moodily at the counter. I didn't normally get so short with Brittany, but I was missing her. It seemed like I had barely seen her over the past couple of days. At the pool party I only got a few minutes with her here and there, and the days since school got out were kind of the same. I guess it was selfish of me worrying about not having enough of her when we were about to embark on a summer's long road trip, but I knew Brittany. I knew Brittany better than just about anyone, and I couldn't help feeling as if she was keeping something from me. Like she did with her grades.

Brittany might not have been book smart, but she wasn't dumb, and neither were her friends. Quinn and I'd both sat down and helped her with her homework every day, even though she wasn't in the same classes that we were. I had been dumbfounded when Brittany said she didn't have enough credits to graduate because both the presidency position and being a Cheerio required her to maintain a certain GPA. All athletes had to maintain a C average, and that was enforced by the state, not just by the school. So there had to be something else going on there. Even if Sue was working her magic behind the scenes, the whole thing just didn't seem right to me. There was something else going on with her.

I watched Brittany flit around Rachel's kitchen, and I sighed, but I didn't voice my feelings, because I didn't really want to hear the answer if my worries were actually founded. Besides, there was no need to have an argument right now. Whatever was wrong between us, if anything, we had all summer to fix it. She probably just wanted to spend as much time with her friends while she had the time to do so. When the frown lines on my face disappeared, Brittany smiled at me, and I smiled back, so maybe everything was just in my head.

The original plan for Rachel's wedding was supposed to be that we were going to all help Rachel get ready at the chapel, with Tina helping her with the dress, me and Brittany helping with her hair, Mercedes and Kurt taking care of her make-up, and Sugar annoying the ever loving hell out of everyone while we all did so. That was the plan. Nowhere in it was staying at Berry's all freaking morning, and most of the afternoon, while Mercedes and everyone else escaped and went about their daily lives, and I contemplated killing the Hobbit at least twice because apparently marrying Lurch was cause for happy theatrical Broadway singing. And after every song, and I do mean every freaking song, she gave Quinn sad puppy eyes, like Quinn would fall into post traumatic stress at the sound of a wedding song. That, of course, didn't stop her from singing, because she was just so FREAKING happy.

If the singing wasn't déjà vu enough for Rachel, the non-wedding was certainly enough to trigger something because Quinn was right: there was no wedding. Finn sent Rachel packing. Despite what Quinn said, I had trouble believing he really would until I saw it with my own eyes, and shit, even I felt bad for Berry when I saw the devastated look on her face.

Sure, Rachel had pulled out of the wedding the first time, but getting a call from a strange man on your friend's cell phone saying that there's been a horrible accident, tends to do that for you. I wouldn't get married without Quinn being there either. But there had been no accident this time; Quinn was okay. This wasn't not getting married because of an unforeseeable disaster, this was Finn deciding for them that getting married at this point in time was a mistake. Even if I could get, and maybe even applaud Finn's train of thought, it really was a shitty thing to do. I mean if you care about someone, yeah, you make sacrifices, you do your best not to stand in their way, but you don't make their decisions for them.

After the train left, with Finn still looking after it even once it was gone, the rest of the Glee kids didn't know what to do with themselves, so they wandered off one by one, until it was just me, Brittany, Quinn and Finn standing on the platform. Brittany was holding me, and I was pretending I didn't feel her tears on my neck. I hated when Brittany cried, but I was sure I would hate even more the look on her face if I could see it. So I didn't. I kept my eyes on Quinn, whose face kept flickering back and forth between the mask and her real emotions. Eventually she walked up to Finn, placing a hand on his back.

Want to see something sad? Imagine a 6'3 man-child turning into his ex-girlfriend, his ex-girlfriend who he once thought he had knocked up and may or may not have had a thing for his current girlfriend/fiancé, crying like a baby.

Now, I don't have a thing for Rachel, but after seeing that look on her face even I felt bad for her. I kind of wanted to blast Finn out for being a miserable human being, but Brittany knew me too well, and held on to me to keep me from saying something. Besides, I felt intrusive enough, still being here to witness this private moment between the two of them, but there was no way I was going to leave Quinn here by herself.

"What did I do?" he demanded, over and over.

Quinn patted his back. "The right thing," she answered.

It was only once Finn left the platform that I felt the courage to turn around and face my girl. "What's with the rain, sunshine?"

She sniffled. "Goodbye's are sad," she answered.

There was no good-bye party to see me and Brittany off. Not that I expected one, not that we could have even had one because my parents had insisted on a 9:00 bed time, and a hang over the night before you start the road trip of your life is not exactly the best idea. So it wasn't like we could have one, but still…it hurt a little that the Gleeks wouldn't be showing up at our front door at 7:00 in the morning, to see us off. Instead Quinn helped while I packed up Lola. And by helped, I mean that she leaned up against the car and explained to me finite dimensions, and didn't lift a single finger to help. She made a model Fabray.

"Where's Brittany?"

I paused in adjusting my bags. "Her parents insisted that for her last night here she needed to spend it with the family. It would have been better if she had spent the night here, that way we could leave first thing in the morning, but hey," I shrugged.

"First thing, huh?"

"As soon as I wake up. It's 7 hours to Abingdon."

"Abingdon?"

"It's in Virginia.?"

"And what's in Abingdon, Virginia?" Quinn asked the way our teacher's would ask questions.

"James Dean's underpants…Britt's choice, and the museum is only open from 1-6."

"You're going to see a porn star's underpants?"

"That's the wrong James Dean, blondie, and I'm not sure I even want to know how you know who he is."

Quinn had a smirk on her face. "_You _know who he is."

"That's different."

"Oh, really?" her brow lifted. "How?"

I smiled. "I'm corrupted." She gave a little tinkling laugh. I watched as her features shifted with the movement. "You should come with us, Q," I said, impulsively. Accounting for Brittany's things, and the cooler with the food in it, there was still plenty of room for someone else to fit their stuff and themselves comfortably in the Mazda. And I'd been thinking, helped, no doubt, by my girlfriend's sudden push over Quinn suddenly. She, Brittany, and I had started our high school experience together, and we should end things together, too. Sure, Brittany wasn't graduating until next year, but we were a matched set: the Unholy Trinity. Maybe we needed this trip with the three of us; one last boding experience before we went off to 'Shiz'…okay, whoever wrote Wicked either was really clueless or fucking brilliant.

"You want me to tag along on you and Brittany's big romantic get away?"

I rolled my eyes. "It's not our big romantic getaway. It's _the _road trip to end all road trips, and of course it's going to mean something for our relationship, but…we need a proper good-bye. All three of us."

"Brittany wants me to come along?"

"I haven't asked her, but she won't say no. I mean she's practically been trying to drag you into bed with us, for reasons I can't figure out, not that you're not hot, Q-"

"Yea, I get it."

"Even though I like the idea of me and Britt doing this by ourselves, I like the idea of you coming with us more," I said, honestly. The idea was sudden, but it had kind of taken a hold of me.

"You're asking me to come with you guys 12 hours before you guys leave?"

I fluttered my lashes at her. "Better late than never right? What else are you going to do this summer? Vacation Bible Study? Do you really want to be sitting in the house with Judy all summer long?"

Quinn grimaced visibly. If she had a choice, I know Quinn would have been in New Haven already, but Quinn's scholarship money wasn't available until just before the school term, and Russell wouldn't pay for an off campus apartment, so she was stuck in Lima until the school year began.

"Our church is going on a mission trip to Venezuela."

"You don't speak Spanish," I pointed out.

"I know some."

I didn't have the heart to break it to her that what Schue taught wasn't enough to get by in a foreign country. It was barely enough to order dinner at a Mexican restaurant. (Not that my grasp of Spanish was much better than hers. What I spoke was a collaboration of what I picked up from abuela's telenovellas and made up words that no one ever called me on).

"Come on, Quinn! You say that we slacked off since Brittany and I started hooking up-,"

"You mean since you two left me to-,"

"So this is our chance to make it up to you!" I said loudly over the end of her sentence. "In two and a half months we're going to go our separate ways, and sure, we'll say some bullshit things like we'll keep in touch, but we both know that we won't. We know how this goes; how life goes. But something like this…it'll bind us for life. Cement forever that like it or not, we're stuck with each forever."

Quinn looked like she was thinking about it, even let a smile cross her face at the possibilities, but then she frowned. "I can't just…," her hand waved helplessly in the air, "_go_, San, I'm not that type of person."

"_Be_ that type of person, just this once. Being spontaneous one time in your life isn't going to kill you Q."

Quinn's snicker quickly turned into a chuckle, then a flat out open mouthed laugh. "Spontaneity has literally been life and near-death in my life, Santana. Or have you forgotten about Beth and the car accident?"

I chewed on my lip. "Fine, then stay here, have your boring summer. I just thought…you can't say I didn't offer."

Quinn gave me that deep, soul searching stare that I swear only she had mastered. She shook her head. "I just can't, Santana," she said regretfully. "As much as I'd love to come with you and B, I'm just not that kind of person."

I wondered if we postponed the trip for a week, got back out the maps and remapped everything, if Quinn would then come with us. If we added some museums and school visits on the road trip if that would appeal to her. I don't know why it was suddenly important to me, not that she actually came with us, but that she wanted to come. Maybe it was because we had grown so far apart, and were just now coming closer together again. Or maybe there really was something major waiting for us at the end of the summer, and I wanted her there for it.

"What if we gave you a couple of days?" I bartered.

"I already have plans, S," Quinn said with a note of finality.

I shrugged it off, trying to mask my disappointment. "Fine. So do we say good bye now, or do you want to wake up at the butt crack of dawn to trudge yourself over here?"

"I live around the corner," she reminded me. "I wouldn't call that a trudge."

"Tomorrow then?"

Quinn nodded. "Just promise me something?" I inclined my head to let her know I was listening. "Don't leave without saying good-bye."

I nodded. "Of course we won't."

I didn't think that I would be able to get to sleep, but surprisingly I only spent a few minutes tossing in bed before I was out to the world. I woke up with the sun, and was stumbling downstairs when my phone went off, ringing with Brittany's current ringtone _'I'm not that innocent'. _

"Hey, B, I'll be ready to pick you up in like 20."

"I'm outside."

I rushed over to the door, and jerked it open. I frowned at the sight of Brittany. She didn't look like she had slept at all, and I knew the look she was wearing. It was her guilty, don't be mad at me look. She hadn't even gotten dressed in real clothes. "What're you doing here, B? I'm supposed to pick you up."

Brittany wouldn't look at me. "I can't, San."

"You can't, what baby? I know you can't carry all your stuff, that's why I was supposed to pick you up."

"Go," she whispered.

I stared at her hard, in case I was missing something. "Go where, B? I don't understand."

"I can't go on this trip with you."

I felt as slow as most people thought Brittany was at that moment. "Why not? This is our trip, B…we've been planning this since last summer."

Brittany's eyes got large and round the way they did right before she started to tear up. "I know, and I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. I wanted to, I was just _so_ scared, Sannie," her eyes were looking at me, pleading at me to understand her. I was trying to understand her, my girlfriend. My love.

"Scared of what? Scared of me?"

"Scared to tell you. I was so excited to go on this trip with you, but when we were making plans to take it, it was before I found out I'm not going to graduate. I have to go to summer school so that I can pull up my GPA to graduate next year."

Santana took a couple of deep breaths, trying not to feel like her life was suffocating her. "When did you find out that you had to go to summer school?"

Brittany gave me a pleading look. "I was afraid to talk to you about it."

"That's the thing, Britt, we haven't been talking! All these things they just keep piling up and you don't talk to me about them. You didn't talk to me and let me know that you weren't graduating. You didn't talk to me to tell me that you can't go on a trip that we've been planning all year for. All you had to do way say that you couldn't go, and we'd figure something out, but you didn't tell me. You haven't been _telling _me _anything_!"

I wasn't aware of the tears until Brittany reacted to them. "Oh Santana, don't cry, please don't cry. I'm so sorry!" I held up a hand to prevent Brittany from hugging me.

"Please, Britt," I said softly. This caused more tears to fall from her eyes. "I can't handle that right now, okay?"

Brittany continued to sob. "I'm sorry, Sannie. Do you still love me?"

My heart felt there was something wrapped around it. "Of course I still love you B, I just…need some time, okay?"

She gave a painful nod of her head. "Okay."

She hung her head and started to walk away. Despite my feelings, I tugged lightly on her hand, pulling her back to me. I kissed her, and I hugged her tightly, and she sank against me. "I love you, Britt. I will always love you, okay?" She gave a pitiful nod of the head. "I am just really sad right now, and I'm angry, but I still love you. Give me a couple of days, okay?"

She nodded into the embrace. I kissed her on the top of the head and eventually we separated. I waited until she had turned back down the walk, got into her car, and drove away before I let my emotions get the best of me.

In the foyer, I fell to the floor, pulling my knees up to my chest and started crying, feeling like I was mourning a lot more than just our lost trip.

I sat there crying until the sound of the household waking brought me out of my funk. I rushed into the powder room, and patted my eyes with cold water, trying to erase the signs of tears before my parents could see them and question them. My mom ran hot and cold about Brittany on most days. She liked her well enough, but I knew she wished that I could find someone else to be with, especially after that dinner before graduation when Brittany dropped the bomb about not graduating. It was the first time that my mom had actually expressed her disapproval about me and Brittany's relationship. She didn't understand why I was so taken with Brittany. She got that I was gay, and she was cool with it, but she didn't understand why it was _her _who had my heart. How could I explain it? She was my first love. What more was there?

"Santana?" My father's voice echoed around the floor, and I was thankful it was him and not my mom, because I needed to come up with some explanation for why I was suddenly not going on the trip that I had been talking about nonstop for months. "Are you down here?"

I stepped out of the bathroom, hoping that I didn't look a complete mess. "Yes, sir."

He blinked twice as if he couldn't believe I was actually standing in front of him. "Who is this girl here, certainly not my little baby? I didn't even know she existed before 6:00." I forced a smile. "You must be really excited!"

"Ha ha, dad."

He gave me a smile, followed by a hug. "You've gotten so big, sweetheart. I'm not sure if I told you, but I'm really proud of you. It seems like yesterday that you were asking me to tuck you in at night, and now you're taking off on a cross country." I held in my sniffle. "You know, I always wanted to do that, but I never found the time."

"Thank you for allowing it," I said.

He hugged me harder. "Part of the reality of your kids growing up is learning that you have to let them go."

We sat down for breakfast, all three of us at the table together. Mom was covering up her anxiousness with a smile, and dad seemed to be as excited as I'd been no more than two hours before. Maybe I wasn't as devastated as Rachel was, but I could understand her slightly better now. A lot more than I ever wanted to, anyway. So much for an epic, cross-country road trip. So much for bonding with friends. So much for living life.

As dad started to clean up the breakfast dishes, and mom loaded up the food that she'd made for us into the cooler, I realized I had to get out of the house. I knew I would have to tell them, and relatively soon, but I just couldn't right now. I slipped out the front with the intention of sitting in my truck for a few minutes, but when I opened the door, I paused in shock. There, sitting on top of a box suitcase, with hair chopped short and dyed a more vibrant pink than the color she wore at the beginning of the school year, was Quinn. She had another suitcase beside her, and a duffle resting at her feet.

"Quinn?" I questioned in surprise.

She tucked a lock of her recently cut hair behind her ear, before she grinned, and shrugged. She was about to respond, but she had gotten a good look at me, and while I may have been able to fool my half asleep dad, I could never fool her. "What's wrong?" she asked instead of saying what she had been about to say.

"We're not going."

Quinn started to frown, but replaced it was a scowl. "Why? What happened? Is everything okay?"

"Apparently Brittany has to go to summer school, and she just told me a little bit ago. If I had known that you were going to change your mind, I would have called you so you didn't have to bother getting up."

Quinn's eyes watched my mouth as I spoke. "So…"

"So no trip." It was silent as we just stared at each other for a few minutes.

Quinn's brow furrowed, and I could see her mind racing. She looked up at me, a determined set to her brow. "Why isn't there going to be a trip?" she questioned.

It was my turn to scowl. "I just told you, Brittany has to go to summer school. She's not going to be able to come."

"Why does that mean that _we_ can't still go?"

"Because we can't," I said, automatically.

"Why not?" Quinn demanded, and if she hadn't asked the question, I probably wouldn't have thought about it, but why not?

"Did you really want to go on me and Brittany's road trip?" I questioned.

Her eyes drifted to the ground, before they met mine, and I recognized the challenge staring back at me. "No," she admitted. "But we don't have to go on you and Brittany's trip. We can make up our own. I know most of those places were where Brittany wanted to go anyway. Now you get the chance to take charge of your trip. You can really go where you want to go, see things that you want to see. We have the whole summer and this whole big country in front of us. Let's take advantage of it!"

This didn't sound anything like the Quinn I was used to. I liked it. Quinn's question reverberated in my head over and over again. Whynot? _Why_ not? Why _not_? _Whynot?_ So Brittany had to do summer school, did that mean that my plans for the summer had to change? Brittany had effectively pulled the carpet out from under my feet, but just because B was going to be stuck in summer school all summer, did that mean that I had to sit around and wait for her? Finn had sent Rachel to New York, but what if she decided on the way that she'd rather be in Boston? Or L.A.? Did Finn's wishes out way her own desires?

I'd had my heart set on this trip; was it really fair that I had to give it up? Brittany hadn't even given me the courtesy of a forewarning? Was I stuck sticking to her plan?

"Come on, San!" Quinn goaded. She was teasing me, throwing my own words back at me. "What else are you going to do with your summer?"

"We don't have a plan," I challenged.

Quinn didn't know how to do life off script. I could see that Quinn had already talked herself into this, though, and she wasn't going to let me talk her out of it. "So we'll make one on the way."

"You're serious?"

She gave a beaming smile. "Yes! Be spontaneous for once in your life, Santana," she jeered. "Come on."

"Fuck it," I decided suddenly. "To spontaneity."


	3. Starting Out

**A/N: I know that the Glee kids graduated in 2012, but for the purpose of this story I need you guys to pretend that they graduate in 2013. Oh, and also that they graduated in May and not June.**

**A/N 2: I fully intend on keeping with this story, and my others, it's just I haven't been feeling very motivated lately and have been kind of blocked. I haven't abandoned you guys. Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><em>I can't say what's next, and I've got nothing up my sleeve, but I won't lose my head, 'cause it ain't really up to me. <em>~Lee Dewyze, Sweet Serendipity.

We stared at each other, waiting for the other to make the first move until I realized that we only had like a 5 to 10 minute window of opportunity before one or both of us changed our minds, and Quinn must have realized the same thing, because she clapped her hands together. "So we really doing this, Lopez?" she demanded, a cocky anticipatory smile on her face.

"If you're game, Fabray," I shot back quickly.

She stood up, revealing her choice of traveling clothes, and her barely decent shorts. She flicked her pink hair at me. "Well, quit dragging ass, let's go!"

We went inside and said good-bye to my parents. I failed to mention that Brittany wasn't still coming along with us, but judging by the way that my mom looked at Quinn with a look of relief that, I don't know, calmer heads were coming on this road trip with us, I don't think she would have minded that Brittany wasn't coming, even though she gave a kind of distasteful look at Quinn's pink hair.

After we promised to call often, to be safe, and to have fun, I said good-bye to my mom and dad at the door, and helped Quinn carry her shit to the car. While I gave one last check under the hood, Quinn set up command center in the front. Lola didn't have any of the fun new toys that the newer cars and SUVs were getting lately, but I had an iPod player that had an outlet for charging so we didn't have to worry about our cell phones, iPods, or the camera running out of juice. Too bad we couldn't plug up our laptops, too, but you can't have it all.

When she was done getting everything set up she looked at me kind of expectantly, and I wondered if she was inwardly freaked out by the idea of ceding control. I toyed with the keys in the ignition. "Before we get started on this epic road trip, I think that we should set down a few basic rules."

Quinn quirked a brow. "_You_ want to set down rules, Santana?"

I ignored her jibe giving a firm nod of my head. "Trust me, you'll appreciate them. Rule 1." I held up a bag. "This is called a trash bag. It is for trash. It will hang off the gear shift into the passenger foot space like so. In it we will put all trash, all gum wrappers, all juice boxes, all receipts, and straw paper. I have given Lola a thorough cleaning, and she is not some cheap hooker. So all trash," I held up the bag again. "In the bag."

"Rule 2: If you are driving, and you get sleepy, say so. I don't want any," I remembered who I was talking to, and paused, but Quinn could already guess what I was going to say.

"Accidents?" Quinn filled in softly, absentmindedly rubbing her hands up and down the tops of her thighs. I swallowed, immediately feeling bad for my lack of forethought. "Yes," I said more gently. "No heroes on this trip, Pinkie. Sleepy? Pull over. Tired of driving? Pull over. Start imagining that there're naked women on the road? Pull over. We'll either switch, take a break, or pack it in for the night. Which leads me to the most important rule: control of the radio, iPod, and CDs belongs exclusively to the driver."

"Seriously?"

"The driver's the one that needs to be entertained, not the passenger, so yes. The driver is god. Four!"

"Can I make a rule?" Quinn interjected.

I gave her a look at her audacity to interrupt me when I was setting down the laws. "You were not given permission to speak, minion."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, oh great and powerful one. Merciful Santana, may this lowly knave speak?" She looked over at me, her eyes peeking out beneath her pink bangs.

"Be quick with it!"

"Rule number 4: No woman will be left behind."

I thought it was a joke, so I laughed, but then I looked over at Quinn and saw the serious expression on her face. I let my voice fall back to my real one. "Geez, Quinn do you really think that I'd leave you behind somewhere?" A brief, but very uncomfortable silence sprang up between us. I adopted my imperial voice again. "Done. No woman gets left behind. We also should like have a special phrase."

"For what?"

"Have you never seen _Law & Order SVU_ or _Criminal Minds?_ In case something happens to one of us. Like…if one of us gets kidnapped, and the other calls, and you need to say that you're in danger, but you don't want them to know that that's what you're saying so we need something like, 'I threw up the waffle sandwich', only not as obvious."

"Santana, if someone took you they'd drop you back where they got you from as soon as you started talking."

"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that. And we both know that my hot ass would fetch top dollar on the black market, whereas no one would be able to afford your boughie ass."

"Boughie. What is this boughie that you speak?"

"It's short for bourgeois, geez crack an urban dictionary sometime."

"What about Rachel Berry?"

I kind of gave her a scowling look. "What is with you and the midget?"

Quinn's lips curled in amusement. I swear she had something cooking for the girl. Quinn definitely had that straight girl gay experiment in college vibe going for her, but I was beginning to suspect that she had jumped the gun on that. She did like to stay in front of the curve, after all. "Nothing's with us. She's a friend."

"That you want to make our secret phrase. She'd get a real kick out of that. If something happened to one of us, and we were saved because our code phrase was 'Rachel Berry', she would somehow change it to her being involved in the actual rescue, and no one would ever hear the end of it. Ever!"

Quinn shook her head at the ridiculousness of it, but she knew that it was true. "It's logical, though. Think about it: 'Who're you with right now? Rachel Berry'."

"And what if you're really with Rachel?"

"Why would I be with Rachel when I'm on this trip with you, and why would I use her full name to tell you?"

"Hmm…as much as it displeases me to bring Rachel into any aspect of this road trip…done."

"Is that all of your rules?"

"For now…wait, bathroom and fuel. My dad's making me say this one. Every time the car stops, we fill up with gas, no matter what."

"Why?"

"Because, especially when we get out to the desert, there's going to be places where the next service stop isn't for 50 miles or more. You don't want to run out of gas in one of those places."

"Okay. And the part about the bathrooms?"

"Oh, no matter what, if a person says they have to go, driver has to stop. And if we have to go on the side of the road or something the other person has to go with to shield them."

"Seriously?"

I went digging behind Quinn's chair pulling out the roll of tissue and sat it in Quinn's lap. "Yep!"

"Is that everything now?"

I nodded. "I think so. No, wait again. No matter where we go, this is our summer, and I command that we enjoy it."

I started to turn the key, but remembered something. There was one last thing. I reached over Quinn's legs into the glove compartment. I pulled out the maps that Brittany and I had so carefully plotted over the course of the year. Without even a glance at them I tossed the maps into the trash bag. Then, with a sense of purpose, I finally turned the key and listened as the ignition turned over and the truck come to life. I waved to the front of the house, (even though my parents were inside by now), and pulled away from the curve.

I turned Lola south, hopping on the 17. "So where are we going?" Quinn questioned. "What's the new plan?"

I shrugged a shoulder. "_No_ idea," I answered. "I don't see why we can't head to Abingdon for now, though."

"And after that?"

"Um…east and south? Britt and I were going to do this kind of zigzag pattern but I guess we could try to trace the U.S.? Touch as many states as we can? We could even finish in New Haven just for you, Pinkie."

I waited for her to pose some objection, but she didn't. Quinn gave a small snicker. She saluted me. "Aye aye, captain."

At the same time, we both smiled at each other, a feeling of excitement hitting us as soon as we were past the sign marking Lima's city limits. I don't think Quinn had really realized what we were doing until the very moment that we were leaving Lima behind. Now she seemed to be getting the idea. I wondered if she felt it, too: that our destiny (well mine) was out there waiting to be found.

I gave one last sideways glance at Quinn before dedicating my attention to the road. I was grateful, albeit surprised, for the pink hair because the last thing I needed was to catch a flash of blonde out of the corner of my eye, and think that Brittany was there on the seat beside me. I didn't want to think about me and Brittany at the moment. I didn't want to think about the trip that we were supposed to take. Or how I felt about it. Brittany often did things without running them by me first, and I was usually left to kind of correct them afterwards. I didn't mind; most of the time. It was just our dynamic. She was the more impulsive one, ruled by her whims; I was the one that grounded her. I went along, and it was an adventure, or, like the canons, I had to show her that it really wasn't a great idea.

But this was different. This hadn't been impulsive; she'd deliberately kept something from me. It's never fun being the last to know, especially when it was with your girlfriend. All she had to do was come and talk to me; I would have understood. I would have been disappointed, yes, who wouldn't? Everyone kind of has it in the back of their mind to take a cross country road trip, and taking it with Brittany would have been epic. But if I had known about the summer school thing, then it would have given me some time to prepare, to either find someone else to go on the trip with beforehand, or make alternate plans for my summer. Yeah, I invited Quinn without telling her, but I didn't think she'd really agree to go, and it was Quinn. We were best friends, the Unholy Trinity. It made sense for her to be there for this. Start together, end together.

"Awfully quiet over there, Fabray."

Quinn gave me a sideways grin that only slightly masked the tension she was carrying. "Is that you projecting, Santana?"

I took her question seriously, because it _was_ me projecting, but Quinn had allowed me to be lost in my thoughts for a pretty long time which meant that she was pretty lost and caught up in her own. I knew what thoughts were keeping me occupied, but I could only guess with Quinn.

"If I tell you something, will you promise not to make a big deal out of it?"

"Ooh, that sounds like you're about to say something that I should totally make a big deal out of? What is it?"

"You just used a preposition at the end of your sentence. 15 minutes into the summer and already you've gone over to the dark side."

Quinn, I'm sure, gave a spectacular eye roll. "What is it you wanted to say?" she pressed, not allowing herself to be dissuaded.

It took me a moment to reset. "I'm glad that you decided to do this." Even though I hated that Brittany had backed out on me, I was more than willing to admit, to myself, that I was kind of looking forward to it being just me and Quinn on this trip. It had been far too long since we had spent any tangible amount of time with each other. We used to be so close. Closer than me and Brittany before the whole sex thing started with us. Maybe that was my fault. I'd allowed myself to get completely wrapped up in Brittany, but could you blame me? My girlfriend was pretty, sexy, and I was a lesbian in a small town. I wasn't stupid enough to think that I was the only gay at the school, but either no one else was brave enough to come out (so what if I'd been pulled out of the closet by Finn, at least I hadn't tried to go back in it), or I just didn't know the other gay girls at my school. So, I allowed myself to get wrapped up in my girlfriend to the detriment of my other friendship. But we were here now, and I was looking forward to it. "No matter what happens with us down the line, I'm glad that we got this chance to reconnect."

I could see Quinn look at me with what…a questioning look, mild surprise? I could tell if we were standing face-to-face, but this way I only got to see half of her face out of the corner of my eye.

"I'm glad I did, too," Quinn said after a minute passed.

I waited, but Quinn seemed to be sitting on her words. "Now here's where you say something equally as sappy so things are even," I directed.

Quinn could do silent like no one else, and she was quiet as she thought about what words she wanted to say. "I never said it before, but thank you for not telling coach that I was pregnant. For actually being there with me when I took the test and for pretending that you didn't know later when Puck spilled the beans."

I wouldn't say that the whole thing about the pregnancy was still somewhat of a sore subject between us, but it was something that was still there. A small little wedge of resentment, maybe. It hadn't been that hard to mask my surprise when Puck had announced that Quinn was pregnant because while I had already known that, I hadn't known that it was Puck's-my kind of boyfriend at the time's-kid. Should I have been there for her for the pregnancy? Yes. But who could really fault that I wasn't?

"And for Beth," she added.

I shook my head, ready for this to be done with. "You never have to thank me for something like that Quinn."

"The point is you were always there when it mattered Santana, so thank you."

We briefly stopped two hours later to take a picture of the two of us standing in front of the sign for West Virginia when we crossed from Ohio to West Virginia (and to get gas), and then drove for another three hours before we stopped to take a picture in front of the Virginia sign, and to eat (and get gas).

After we fueled up, we pulled off the highway onto a little side road and broke out the cooler my mom packed. I only knew a little of what had been put into it, so it was a surprise to me, too. Pinkie had a smile on her face as she pulled out grapes, apples, cheese, celery and carrot sticks, strawberries, mangos, pineapple pieces, sandwiches: roast beef, chicken salad, and turkey, tamales, tortillas shells…

"She packed enough to feed an army," Quinn kind of squealed.

"Don't make fun of mama," I said, throwing a grape at her. "The less we eat out, the better."

Quinn looked at the haul in front of us. "I wasn't making fun of Mama Lopez," she tried to assure me. "I'm amused because my mom would never do something like this. The best she'd do is to put some money in a cooler and call it a day."

Oh. I hated every time I was made to remember how different Quinn's and my backgrounds were. My dad was a doctor, yes, but our middle class existence was first generation: both of my parents had grown up…let's say challenged. My dad's grandparents had been born in Puerto Rico, and my mom's parents only spoke a rudimentary level of English. Quinn, on the other hand, had been raised at the country club and spent her weekends going to dinners that her parents hosted, or that the Lima Junior League put on. Her father had been involved with their church, and with city politics. Her mom the PTA. If Quinn hadn't gotten involved with cheerleading, she probably would have become a tennis pro or something similar, unless she had remained Lucy. Then she would have been tucked into a closet never to be brought out to light. When she got to Yale she'd be joining whatever the Yale equivalent of the Tri-Delts were, and would get married to some blonde society man.

I looked back over the spread that ten seconds earlier I had been perfectly pleased with. "Between gas and hotel stays the more money we can save, the better. We're kind of on a budget." My voice had gotten snappish without me really meaning to. Now that I thought about it, Quinn and I hadn't discussed the finance part of this. When Brittany was coming, everything was supposed to be halved down the middle. Now that she wasn't…since I'd invited her, did that mean that Quinn wouldn't feel obligated to pay?

"I'm not making fun of your family, Santana."

"Whatever," I mumbled. "Here's the food. Help yourself to what you want. Or don't. I don't care."

Quinn put her hand on top of mine. When I still didn't look at her, with her other hand she not so gently jerked my head towards her, forcing me to do so. "I really wasn't. I'm…I'm jealous. Judy would never do something like this; she wouldn't think to."

A few minutes passed by in silence, and I didn't realize that Quinn's hand was still resting on top of mine until she removed it. "Can we set another rule? Not just for this trip, but for us in general?"

"What rule is that?" I grumped.

"We need to set a proviso that acknowledges that neither of us is trying to hurt the other. Santana, we were friends, once. We knew each other's secrets-"

"-and used them against each other to further our ascent up the ladder."

"In high school!" Quinn gave a giddy laugh that seemed at odds with Quinn Fabray, but felt at home with her pink-haired doppelganger. "Being bitches to each other no longer serves any purpose whatsoever. We're not in the same circles anymore, unless you count Glee. You're going to be the dominate Cheerleader in Kentucky, and I'm going to Yale to establish my reign. So, now that we're no longer in competition," she held out the hand that had been previously sitting on top of mine. "Can we be friends again?"

"You dork," I said, finally finding my voice. I knocked her hand away. "We already are."

Silence fell again, but a more comfortable one as we ate. Every now and then we would look back over at each other, and give a half smile before rolling our eyes. The interaction felt familiar, elementary even; we were kind of acting the way two classmates would act after deciding to be friends with each other on the first day of school. I pushed Quinn slightly, and she laughed, before tossing a piece of fruit at me in retaliation.

Our moment was interrupted by the sound of Quinn's cell going off. Quinn got to her feet, dusting off her bottom before she climbed over the seats to get her phone from where it was sitting in the cup holder. "Hello?" Quinn's voice adjusted to a less exuberant, more somber tone as she greeted her caller. "Oh, hi, sweetie! How are you doing?"

_Sweetie? _She called Puck Sweetie? But why would she be somber with Puck anyway?

"I know it does. It's going to be okay, though, and I think this was for the best. I really do." That must be Rachel then. Speak of the devil and…wait when did Quinn start calling Rachel _sweetie_? The only person (other than Beth) that I'd ever heard Quinn use a term of endearment on was Brittany. "No….I'm not in Lima. We just crossed into Virginia. We're in the car now, actually…Santana…I'll tell you later. I'll call you when we're stopped for the night, okay?"

I watched Quinn's pink head bounce up and down. "I know, sweetie, I know. Tonight," she said reassuringly. "As soon as we stop for the night. Talk to you soon."

I was almost expecting her to end the call with her love. Instead Quinn hung up with a small sigh, and turned back towards me too quickly for me to hide the look on my face. "What?" she demanded.

"That was Berry," I accused.

She shook her head before climbing back over the seats to sit beside me on the bed of the trunk. "Yeah…and?"

"Since when did you get all chummy with her? Calling her sweetie and everything? Did I miss the memo that you guys started dating?"

"Aww…Santana, are you jealous? Do you want me to call you sweetie, too? Come here, _sweetie_," she teased. She pulled me to her, and gave me a big, sloppy kiss on my cheek.  
>I jerked away from her, wiping off her slobber as I did. "Not funny, Fabray! Seriously, when did you become best friends with Rachel?"<p>

"You're actually jealous…of Rachel Berry?"

"I thought _I w_as your best friend?"

Quinn gave a 'humph' and started to collect our trash. I jumped down. "What's that mean?" I demanded.

"It just means, humph, Santana."

I grabbed for her arm. "I call bullshit, Quinn."

"It means I don't understand you! You're jealous because you think that Rachel is my 'new best friend'," she actually did those insufferable air quotes, "when we're not even besties?"

"What are you talking about? You've always been my best friend."

"Brittany's your best friend."

"Brittany's my girlfriend. You're my best friend."

Instead of nodding, or agreeing, or saying the same was true, she took a step back. "We should probably get back on the road," Quinn directed.

"What's that look for."

"I didn't give you a look."

"You gave me a look, Q. What?"

Quinn stared at me for a second, and shook her head. "It's nothing, _sweetie_."

"Bull."

"I don't want to talk about it so can we pack everything back up so we can go?"

"Fine." I snapped. "God, are we going to be dealing with that attitude the whole summer?"

Quinn spun, glowering at me. "There's no attitude, and you said we have to have fun this summer, so can we please not have an un-fun conversation? I am on a road trip with my best friend who I am reconnecting with before I go off to Yale. Okay?"

"You know what, fine, Fabray," I muttered. "Lord help us from actually talking about shit."

We finished packing up our stuff, and got back in the car. Quinn put her head set on and listened to whatever crap she had on her iPod for close to two hours, and I turned up the radio blasting R&B and rap just to try to irritate her. Eventually she pulled off her head set, though, and switched the station.

I slapped her hand. "What's rule # 3 Quinn?"

"Bite me, Tana," she shot back.

And things were okay between us again.

A light rain started to fall when we merged onto the I-81, but by the time we got to the 11 it stopped.

"Hey, I think we're here." I gave Quinn a little shake because she had dozed off. She gave the softest snort before opening her eyes.

"What?" She rubbed her eyes, turning so she could look out her window. There wasn't much to see, but I didn't want her to miss anything in case there was. Quinn rolled the window down, and rested her head on the door. When the window came down, the heat that had been kept at bay came rushing in as well as a woodsy musky smell.

"Where do we go from here?"

I checked the screen. "We stay on the highway."

For about a mile we drove, the town lazily passing by. "Hey, look." I pointed to about 10:00. "Ballas pizza and subs. That is so where we need to have dinner, cause I'm a balla yo!"

Quinn face-palmed. "Please, never say that again," she groaned. "I think it was Bella's, anyway."

"No, that sign totally said Ballas."

Ballas disappeared, and I was wondering if we had missed our turn off or something, because the minor business and homes we had seen seemed to disappear. "Doesn't this kind of feel like the beginning of a horror film?" I questioned rhetorically. "All we need is for the sun to disappear behind the clouds, and a guy with a trench coat to appear at a rundown gas station.

She shook her head. A few minutes later, it stopped looking so woodsy, but it still very much looked like a small town. We drove past the sign welcoming us to Abingdon. "I thought we entered Abingdon back there. _Now_ we're officially here," I stated.

I think Quinn was ignoring me. After we passed over the bridge, Quinn gasped suddenly, snapping her lips closed, and pinching her nostrils together with her thumb and forefinger. "Quinn what're you doing?"

Being careful not to inhale she said with a serious face, "You're supposed to hold your breath when you drive past a cemetery."

I rolled my eyes. "You're so weird, Q."

The Abingdon Cemetery seemed to go on forever, and I kind of felt like I had been holding my breath too. By the time we finally reached its end, Quinn had nearly turned blue, and she was gasping for breath, and I was too from trying not to laugh at her. When Quinn was breathing regularly again, she glowered at me.

"I didn't know you were superstitious, Quinn," I teased.

"If you don't hold your breath, spirits can get into your body," she said, seriously.

"I didn't, and you see I'm still alive."

"Probably, because the spirits have already taken you over. There was a time when you would have been beside me, passing out, too."

I chose to ignore the last part of her statement. Quinn was a big girl, and I wasn't going to entertain her passive aggressive tactics.

I could tell that we were getting closer to our target because the world around us was getting more 'towny'. Instead of just seeing food, gas, and hotel places, we were beginning to see churches and salons. And funeral homes. A couple of them, like a lot, but I guess it was just convenient to have the mortuary just down the road from the graveyard.

But it made me kind of suspicious: did a lot of people die here or something?

The 11, or Lee Highway, went right through Abingdon's main street. As the trees thinned, the buildings got closer together and became more uniform Quinn turned to me. "Let's get out." I looked from the Tom-Tom to the buildings we were passing. "We're not there, yet."

She shrugged a shoulder. "So? I want to explore."

"The tour is a timed thing. How about we do that first, and then come back?"

Quinn looked at the clock. "You said 1 to 5 right? We have time."

"Yea, but we want to spend as much time as possible getting to look at the stuff, right?"

We had a staring contest. Quinn won. I parked the truck. "Okay, but listen. Our place is just a few blocks up the road. We can walk there, but if we see something that we want to check out we can do so after the tour, okay?"

Quinn bit her lip halfway through a smile. "You're so serious, Santana."

_This was so going to be a long trip. _

I took the Tom-Tom off of its stand, and switched it to the walking feature. We parked in front of a restaurant called Rain and because they had takeaway menus outside Quinn went up to the window and picked one of up. "Anything interesting?"

She gave a one shouldered shrug. "Not really. They have basmati rice. Ooh, you know what I would love? Some Greek. We have to stop somewhere that has really good Greek food. We should go to Atlantic City; I've always wanted to go to Atlantic City."

"Why?"

"It's Atlantic City!"

"It's in Jersey."

"So?" She fixed me with a look and I swear she was just seconds from placing her hands on her hips, and stomping her foot.

I pinched her cheek. "You've been spending way too much time around Rachel. On our way back to the East Coast we'll stop in Atlantic City. Happy Princess?"

She nodded so apparently: yes.

The Star Museum was a three story brick building that sat beside the county office building and a professional information management company. At the first sight of Abingdon, I knew not to really get my hopes up, but the outside of the building was kind of anticlimactic for this to be our first stop. The building was a three story brick, with yellow trimming, and a door outlined in red. It wasn't grand, or flashy, and really, for a place to be proclaiming that it was a museum of star's memorabilia, you'd think that the front at least would have a gaudier, attention-grabbing sign. If it wasn't for Tom-Tom's insistence that we were in the right place, we might have passed by it.

"It doesn't look very open," she said as we approached the door.

Inwardly I agreed with her, but I didn't want to. "It's not closed," I argued. We had looked up the hours of operation before we'd left, and we'd left Lima when we did to specifically get here while it was still open, so it damned well not be closed. I had kind of been looking forward to this place, and there was no way I was staying the night in Abingdon just to come back when it was open again.

Quinn tugged on the locked door just to prove her point. "See, closed."

She seemed so satisfied about that. Her smirk only deepened when I went up to the door to try them for myself. I gave a glance around Main Street as if that would provide me with some clue, before looking the building over.

"What're you doing, casing the joint? About to break in?"

I gave her a vicious look that she just laughed at. I was about to give the door another tug when I saw the sign. "Ha," I said, triumphantly, pointing it out to Quinn. "We're supposed to call. He's probably at home or something."

"How exciting can this place be if it's not open regularly," she mumbled, but she took her phone out to make the call. It didn't take long. "He said give him 20 minutes," she informed me.

We both looked around us, as if to find something to occupy our time until then. I thought about getting back into Lola, but I was glad for a little time outside of the truck knowing how much time we were going to be spending in it.

Quinn leaned against the side of the wall while we waited. She titled her head skyward to take in the front of the building. "Was this your choice or Brittany's?" she questioned curiously.

"Brittany's pick but it was for me. She said it was so I could 'get inspired'."

Quinn gave her familiar sideways grin. It was something that was not quite a smirk, but was sarcastic in every millimeter that it stretched over her lips. "Maybe you will."

"You, maybe. Aren't you supposed to be studying drama when you rush off to Yale? Maybe you can channel some of old Hollywood, since you've apparently already got the look." I looked her over and smiled. "Kind of."

I smacked my gum, blowing an impressive bubble. "What kind of acting do you want to do anyway?"I realized I'd never asked before. Quinn wanting to pursue an acting career was so far away from what she was supposed to do that it was surprising. Even more surprising was that I hadn't questioned it when she announced her intentions in Glee. Who goes to Yale to study theatre? "Stage, TV, Movie?"

I thought about Quinn doing non-singing stage performances. Maybe as Lady McBeth or Emily Webb or something. "I want to do movies," Quinn answered, interrupting my thoughts. "The stage is passing and TV shows are formulaic."

"What kind of movies? Like if you had the choice. Period pieces?"

"Action films."

Quinnie, always the one to surprise. "Really?"

"Just because I look a certain way, doesn't mean I want to act a certain way." Quinn gave a flip of her dyed pink hair as if to reinforce her words.

"You're telling me that your brief pink haired stint wasn't an act? Come on! Ryan Seacrest?"

"It was meant to be ironic!" Our eyes met and we laughed at each other. "Okay, so it was an act, but you already knew that." She leaned further back on her elbows. "But I was thinking, you know, what would I have been like, if I stayed Lucy. What kind of person would I have been? She probably would have been that emo-ish chick, who stuck to herself, and didn't have very many friends."

"News flash, Q, you are that girl who mostly sticks to herself, and doesn't have very many friends."

"Gee, thanks San."

"No, I mean seriously. Who would you honestly say is your friend? I'm not being facetious, I'm being serious."

She gave it some consideration. "You and Brittany," she stated, and I nodded.

"Obviously."

"Mercedes."

I quirked a brow. "Really? Do you guys even talk to each other?"

"She was there for me when no one else was really sticking in my corner. And if either of us ever has something that we need to talk about, or just need someone to listen, we're there for each other. Always."

"I _never_ hear you talk about her."

"Just because I don't, doesn't mean that she isn't someone in my life, Santana," she practically snapped.

I took a deliberate step back. "Down Carrie."

"Sam," she listed. I had no complaints there. "Artie."

"Really? Stubbles McCripple-pants?"

"Don't call him that! He's a really nice guy who got a serious bum deal in life. He was really sweet to me when every one over looked me. Literally."

"And if he needed some late night encouragement would you be an ear for him? Does he have your phone number?"

"Yes."

"Would you answer it if he called?"

"Are you _trying_ to make me sound like a vapid bitch or something, S?"

I held up my hands, palms extended towards her. "Whoa, stand down, Q. Remember the rules of the road. I'm not trying to make you sound like that at all, all I meant by it was that you have never been the kind of person to have a large group of people to entrust. Yeah, you had your waves of popularity where everyone thought they knew you, but very few people actually know you."

"How many people know you?" she challenged.

I pretend to count but the number was pretty small. "You and Brittany. And Karofsky."

"Karofsky? As in _David_ Karofsky, the guy who tormented Kurt?"

"As in the guy who was so in denial about who he was that he projected his inward manifestations outwardly and felt so guilty about it that he attempted to commit suicide? Yes. He's like me, we're alike, I mean. I understand how he feels, I _get _him."

Quinn's brow furrowed at those words. Realizing what I said, and how Quinn might interpret it with her overanalyzing brain, I shifted uncomfortably underneath her suddenly intense gaze.

"When did you _get_ him?" she demanded in a no-nonsense tone.

I fixed my gaze on something in the distance. "It doesn't matter."

She took a couple of steps towards me. "When?" she said more forcibly.

Even though she got in my face, and was all scary Quinn I didn't answer her question. "All I was getting at by what I said earlier was that you _are_ still Lucy. She's not like some entity that was banished and hidden away. You're her, and she's you, and you're always going to be you no matter what you call yourself. That's all I meant." Quinn was still looking at me intently, as if she could force the words from my head. "So, action huh?" She let me get away with my attempt at changing the subject for which I was thankful.

"I know I'm supposed to be like the reprisal of some Hollywood starlet, but if my whole acting career consisted of me reprising my childhood I would shoot myself. The whole purpose of acting is getting the chance to be something that you're not."

"What about your back?"

I could tell that my question irritated something in her. "With the proper therapy it can be nursed back to good as new, and there's action stunt doubles. You don't think Scarlett Johansson or Halley Berry do their own stunts do you?"

"Way to ruin the dream for me, Q."

"Anytime."

Quinn kicked off the wall, and started walking, picking a direction. I followed behind. "Have _you_ ever thought about acting?" I studied my reflection in the passing shop window. "You're pretty and most of your high school career was all an act so we both know that you can do it."

"I've thought about it," I answered. "With that sex tape out there, though, that kind of thing follows you around everywhere you go, and I don't want to be that kind of celebrity. I'm not a Kardashian. It'd probably get me the wrong type of roles, not that there's many roles out there for me anyway."

"There's-" I gave a grimace as I waited for Quinn to say something convincing. There was so much that I would never understand about how Quinn grew up, but there was also so much that I knew she would never understand about me, too. It was just one of those things that we didn't talk about.

"A role that's not a maid, or the sexpot, or the druggy, or the gangster's half naked girlfriend. I've played that role in high school, and I'm not interested in doing it anymore."

"There are roles out there other than stereotypical roles."

"Name one."

Quinn fished. "Huck!" She said triumphantly. "On Scandal. That's played by Guillermo Diaz. And he's gay, too."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, Barbie."

"Ms. Fabray?" We both turned at the sound of the voice. "Are you here for the tour?"

She gave an automatic smile. "Yes, we are." He looked at me too, extending a hand to Quinn. "I'm Robert. Welcome to the Star Museum."

He shook my hand and me and Quinn gave our names. When his back was turned I shot Quinn a look and a smile, and she gave me one back that said _Behave_, but she smiled, too, because she agreed with me.

If you ever wanted to know off-beat and quirky information about celebrities, the star museum was definitely the place to go. It had the most random items imaginable: spittoons, old shoes, swim wear, sunglasses, magazine articles, robes. It was kind of strange, and garage sale-y, but Robert knew all of this information about the celebrities, and it was kind of cool.

I think Quinn and I had the most fun in the gift shop, though, playing with the souvenirs. Quinn wrapped a sheer scarf around my head, and took a step back to examine my face. "Lovely, darling, just lovely." She said this around a Humphrey Bogart cigar, and with a fake Cindy Crawford mole stuck to her face, so of course I couldn't help but laugh.

Quinn pulled a flapper hat down over her hair. "How do I look?"

"You look absolutely fabulous, doll. A real riot." I don't know why, but I said that in a fake British accent, that was so dead on, or so horrible, Quinn nearly fell over.

"Do you ever wonder if people over in England ever go around trying to put on American accents?"

"Oh, I'm sure. At the very least I know they've tried on a southern accent. I thank y'all kindly for comin' by, y'all come back now, ya hear?"

We left the shop in a fit of giggles, and I'm sure Robert thought that we were insane. Or on drugs. Outside, Quinn started off in the direction opposite Lola, and I went trotting behind her.

"Where should we go next?" I questioned. "Oh, we probably should have asked Robby! That should be like something we do: every time we leave a destination, we should ask someone where our next destination should be!"

I don't know where the sudden enthusiasm came from, but it was there, and the excitement that I hadn't felt since Brittany cancelled on me was starting to make its way back. We were really going to do this! And I was liking this whole not having a plan. "When we hit the south, though, we should make sure to go to Memphis and Nashville…and Muscle Shoals."

"I was with you on Memphis and Nashville for obvious reasons, but Muscle Shoals?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Ever hear the song _Sweet Home Alabama_?" I started mouthing the lyrics I was talking about. "_Muscle Shoals has got the south land. And they've been known to pick a song or two. Lord they get me off so much. They pick me up when I'm feeling blue now how 'bout you_?"

Quinn gave an amused little smile. "You want to visit a city because of a song lyric?"

"Are you telling me you don't want to walk in Memphis just because Mark Cohn wrote a song about it?"

Quinn's smile was telling. "I think it's Swampers, though."

"What?"

"I think it's Muscle Shoals has got the Swampers. I think that's what the lyric says."

"No, it's Southland," I said certainly, singing it again, just to be certain.

"San, I really think it's Swampers; like I think that that was a group, or a recording studio band, or something."

I shook my head. Quinn wasn't a music person. She was in Glee Club, yes, but she wasn't like an aficionado. She liked to sing songs, but she didn't feel it. She didn't _know_ it. She didn't know like Motown, and La Lupe, and bossa nova. Olga Guillot and the Supremes, the Marvelettes. Bob Dylan and the Kinks. Her musical education didn't extend beyond Mr. Schue's less than deep musical lessons, and I was sure on this one. It was swamp land.

She gave up the point. "Muscle Shoals it is."

"Do you want to head that way tonight?"

Quinn's eyes rolled heavenward and I wondered if her back could predict the weather now. "Not tonight. We still have some exploring to do here, and there's a hotel that you're supposed to stay in while you're in town. My parents stayed in it a couple of times. The Martha Washington Inn, I think."

I rolled my eyes because the name itself sounded pretentious which meant that it was most likely out of my price range. $40-50 a night was my ideal, $80 was pushing it. I did plan for one extravagant hotel stay, but I didn't want to use that this early in the trip.

Quinn pulled out her cell, and scrolled through her contacts until she found the number she was looking for. "Who are you calling?"

"You'll see." I got my answer a few seconds later. "Hello, daddy!" I rolled my eyes at the overly pretentious voice that Quinn had just adopted. "Yes, I did send that thank you note to the Henderson for their generous graduation gift." Quinn seemed to listen for a few minutes without saying a word. "Yes, sir, I did. Brant Gilliland's family invited me to dinner when I get to Connecticut, and I will be sure to take them up on their offer, and Willard's daughter, Dorothy, has promised to take me under her wing when I get to Yale."

I started to tune her out. Was this really how conversations with Quinn's parents went, and when did she start talking to her father again? Judy had said that Russell had been caught with a 'tattooed freak', but it certainly seemed that he was back to running in the same old family circles that he had been when he was in Lima. He wouldn't have been able to do that if he was with the kind of girl that Quinn had been at the beginning of the year.

I heard Virginia Beach, but I didn't tune back into the conversation in time to catch anything interesting. "Actually, daddy, that's why I wanted to talk to you. I'm in Abingdon. One of the young women I met on my tour of Yale invited me to spend a spa weekend at the Martha Washington, before we go on to tour D.C., but they seemed to have lost her reservation. I don't know if there's anything you can do…I remember you and mom used to come here sometimes…" There was a long pause on Quinn's end. She flicked some gunk from beneath a nail. "Oh, thank you daddy!" Quinn said happily.

A few minutes later she hung up the phone. I made fake gagging noises. She punched me in my arm. "Shut up, San. You'll thank me when you see the hotel."

The words had barely been spoken when her cell phone started to go off. "Quinn Fabray!" She listened intently. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you daddy!"

Thankfully she hung up before I could throw up my lunch. "Not only did Russell get us rooms for a two night stay at the hotel and spa, he's also paying for a week stay in Virginia Beach."

Not that I was knocking anything that had the word beach in it, but- "I thought we were heading to Memphis."

"San it's a free week in Virginia Beach. There is a beach there, and it's the middle of the summer in the south."

She had some very good points. Except…and honestly, I couldn't help myself. "Summer doesn't start until June 21st. So it's kind of like the middle of _spring _in the south."

She gave me the eyebrow raise. "Do you want to stay at the beach or not?"

"Duh, Q."

"Then shut it."

"You're so charming."

"I get it from you," Quinn said without hesitation.

I gave a fake scowl. "So does this Martha Washington have an address?"

She took the Tom-Tom from me and programmed the address into the device. "It's about a little more than a quarter mile from here."

"Well lead on, Pinkie. Lead on."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I have a rough map out of the route that the girls are going to take, east, south, west, than north and back east (basically outlining the U.S.) If you know any quirky places along that route, drop me a private message or leave it in the review, and I might find a place for it in the story. (Vegas, Hoover Dam, and Grand Canyon are already taken) **


	4. The Miserable Ones

_If you want to be somebody else, if you're tired of fighting battles with yourself, if you want to be somebody else, change your mind. ~ Sister Hazel, Change your Mind_

"Oh!" Quinn squealed. "We have to go in here!"

Quinn grabbed for my hand and pulled me into a shop with a yellow and blue flower above the door on a sign that said _Forget-Me-Not._ It was going to be a few hours before we could check into the hotel so we were passing time by checking out what else Abingdon had to offer. This shop was tucked away into the shadows, and we'd nearly walked past the small little shop without taking notice of it because from the outside it looked like it was someone's home.

Quinn had already found something to look at and try on by the time I had gotten my bearings. It was a boutique shop, apparently with anything you could ever whan in Bohemian chic clothes, apparently. It was a surprise find in my opinion, but I had already assumed that there wasn't much to see in this small southern town. "Hey, come try some stuff on with me," Quinn said, grabbing my attention. Unsurprisingly she'd found herself a dress, but it was far more hippy, and stylish, than any of the ones she normally wore. It was more Pinkie and less Quinn Fabray; I liked it.

"This stuff isn't really me," I said, looking around.

Quinn rolled her eyes, and started picking out a few things that I knew were in my size. Quinn continued stalking the shelves, stopping so suddenly that I nearly ran into the back of her. "There you are, San," she said, pointing to a sign on the wall. She read it out loud while I read it in my head, "_Do one thing every day that makes you happy." _She gave a wide smile. "I think we've got today covered, don't you?"

I returned the smile, nodding slightly. Quinn picked up a forget-me-not bracelet and slid it onto my wrist.

"Brittany would like this store," I said, absently. It was true; she would just because of that sign alone. That and these were the types of clothes she'd wear whenever she was out of her Cheerios uniform. I had my phone out to text her, when I stopped myself. Quinn, who had her eyes on something else, didn't notice.

"Should we get her something?" she questioned, oblivious to my dilemma.

I kind of shrugged. Should I? I hadn't told Brittany about this trip before we'd left Lima, and I was almost certain she'd never expect me to go on it without her. I wasn't ready to have that conversation, either.

Without waiting for me to answer, Quinn added a wooden necklace to the pile. "There, that way she'll know we were thinking about her."

Quinn didn't notice my strained smile. Now that I didn't have to concentrate on driving, and we weren't occupied with a museum, my mind went to my girlfriend, who was either sitting at home, listening to her brother and sister, arguing about everything, or was locked away in her bedroom, working on new choreography for the Cheerios next year, which she was somehow still able to do despite not having a high enough GPA to graduate.

Brittany had different quirks when she was upset. When she was mad, she would dance. She would put on some hip-hop/pop song that would speak to her particular mood and if there weren't dance moves in the video, she would make up her own. When she was livid, she would run laps or go jogging around the neighborhood. When someone insulted her, like called her stupid, she would hide out in her closet, turn on the special lamp that was in there that projected the constellations onto her clothing, and lay on her back, sometimes for hours staring up in contemplation, while classical music played in the background. Brittany knew all of the constellations, especially those that made up Aries, her sign, because she said finding it was like going home.

When she was upset because she had upset someone else, she typically sat on her bed with Lord Tubbington, or is she couldn't find him, she would just sit there, completely motionless except for her hands that she worked over and over. She would disappear into herself until she found a way to somehow make things better. Usually I would sit with her, so she wouldn't be alone, like she did with me when I was too angry, or hurt, or confused to put my feelings to words.

"Hey Santana, you still with me?"

My eyes flickered over to Quinn who was giving me a concerned look. "Just thinking," I answered.

"Well don't think too hard," she teased. "You might pull a blood vessel."

"Ah ha ha. What were you going on about?"

"We're not even a day away, yet. We can always go back."

That wasn't even a consideration. "No, we can't. As Rafiki said, there's no going backwards, only forward."

"Actually, I don't think that's what he said at all."

"Who are you going to believe, Q? Me, or you."

"That-,"

"That's what I thought. Where's this dress you wanted to try on?"

Quinn ended up getting the dress, a boho top I was sure she'd never work up the nerve to wear, a shirt, the jewelry, and a shawl. We went back to Lola so Quinn could drop off her clothes, and we could move her closer to the hotel, then we got back out and continued to explore Main Street. Quinn stumbled upon a handful of antique shops, and I got dragged into each one.

"You know something I always wanted?" she asked without prompting in the third store. "One of those jewelry boxes with a little ballerina in it that plays _Fur Elise_. A real wooden one, not a plastic one. Was there ever something stupid like that that you really wanted?"

This shop had everything in it from old fashioned roll top desks, to typewriters, to little red metal wagons. There were China services missing a set, a cast iron stove, old readers…sometimes I couldn't tell the difference between an antique stores and a thrift shop. My eyes stopped on one of those old blue banks, the kind that the little drawer locked when you put a quarter in it, and didn't open again until you had filled it with $10 worth of coins. A Russian doll stood beside it, with a woman who was standing there with painted on rosy cheeks and a creepy smile. I subtly turned the thing away from me. "A nutcracker," I finally answered.

Quinn turned from the box full of pogs. "A nutcracker?"

"Ever since I watched the _Nutcracker Prince _I've just wanted a Nutcracker, an old fashioned wooden one, and the Rat King."

My eyes fell on a quilt that was halfway hanging up, halfway folded. Almost as if they had a mind of their own, my feet headed in the direction of the quilt. The quilt was very old, and carried a price tag of $150. I stared, reminding myself not to touch it, but every now and then, as I examined the stitch work, and the squares, my hand rose as if it might, and I had to bring it back down again.

I felt a chin on my shoulder. "What are you looking at?"

I startled even tough I knew it had to be Quinn. I wiggled away from her. "Just a quilt."

Quinn kind of gave it an unimpressed look, but I've noticed that people who have never stitched anything before didn't have any real appreciation for what all went into it. "Why?"

I shrugged. "Why not? I quilt. I like to admire other quilters work."

"You quilt?"

I nodded. "And crochet."

"Really?"

"Yes, and I'm not sure why you find that so surprising."

"Sorry, but it's just…that's so domestic, Santana."

I shrugged. I wasn't exactly shouting this knowledge at the top of my lungs, but it wasn't something I was like embarrassed about either. I had been knitting since I was old enough to hold the needles in my hand. "It's a family tradition that goes back several generations. Abuela taught me how to knit and crochet when I was like really little, and for certain markers in life she and I would make a quilting square to commemorate. First tooth? We knitted a square with a pocket to hold it. When I got my first haircut, Abuela actually made thread out of the cut hairs, and another square was made. It's like a picture album: there's a square made from my first day of school outfit, from my Quinceañera-,"

"Your what?"

"Quinceañera. It's like a Hispanic version of a sweet sixteen party or the bar mitzvah, only you celebrate it when you're 15."

"When did you have this?"

"The weekend before I turned 15. It was at the Hispanic Community Center in Columbus."

"Why wasn't I invited?"

"It was most family."

"Was Brittany there?"

"No, Q, if she was I would have invited you too. I've also got squares from part of my baby blanket, and a dozen other things that I don't remember right off the top of my head. If I have a kid, which I highly doubt, when my quilt is done, I'll give it to my first born, and when I'm a grand mom I'll make another quilt with my nieta."

"You don't want kids?"

"I'd probably unintentionally kill them or something. Are you telling me that if you hadn't had Beth you'd honestly want to be a mom?"

For a second I was worried because I brought up the B word, but she didn't melt down when I said her name so I guess it was fine. "Well, obviously I didn't want to be a mom at 16, but someday, yeah. It's never crossed your mind?"

I moved on from the quilt. "It's crossed my mind; I know that I'm making this quilt for my daughter someday, but it's never been something like, 'hey, I wanna do that'." I shrugged. "I don't know, somewhere down the line, maybe once we hit 30 or something, Brittany's going to decide that she wants a baby, and if she does, then I'll have a kid."

I could tell Quinn was watching me as I played with a really neat model air craft. "So, Brittany's the one, then?"

It was really cool, the doors opened, the landing gear could be lowered, even the yoke moved. My dad, before med school, and marriage, and me, used to do models. When he retires, I figure he'll pick them up again, but for now it's just something that he used to do, and he wondered why I didn't want to be a doctor. Sure, you made a lot of money, but what did you actually get to spend it on. _Well, what _do_ you want to do with your life, Santana_? I didn't want my dad to have to shell out the money for med school, but since I'd taken a scholarship to Kentucky, I could have dad take care of med school and not feel that bad about it. I could even pay it back someday. But even without the financial burden, what you couldn't get back was the time.

Lawyer? It was one less year academically, and no residency or fellowships to worry about, but schools were churning out more lawyers than there were jobs for, and I'd even read about a group of lawyers suing their law schools for not preparing them to practice law afterwards. There was engineering; I like to build things and I was actually good with the sciences. I could travel all over the world, too. That's what Britts mom did. She wasn't an engineer, but she worked for a defense company made up of mostly engineers, and she was always spending a couple of months in places like Dubai, and Roy, and Turkey, and other locations most people didn't even know existed.

Thinking about it, though, it was a kind of a sucky job to have as a parent. Or even really as a person in a relationship of any kind. Pretty much all of the jobs that made lots of money were the kinds that took you away from your family, and your friends, and from the things that you were spending so much time working to have. What I really wanted was a nice 40 maybe 50 hour a week job that paid enough to have an apartment or house in a decent neighborhood, and allow me to go on shopping trips bi-monthly. Or monthly. Whatever ended up working out. That way I could have something nice, but still have time for the person I was coming home to. Was that person Brittany? Did I want to break up with her, no? Did I see her beside me for the rest of my life?

"That's where we all end up eventually, right? But we're not talking about something that's overnight. We're only both 18, for crying out loud; ask me again in 12 years." Not to mention we had some things to work out, but Christ, me and Britt, 10 years from now? No doubt she'd look as smoking as she did now, maybe even more because she'd have that mature look to her. It wasn't that bad of a thought, to me.

We moved back out into the open air. "So, do you have one of those quilts from your mom?"

I nodded. "Of course; I told you, it's tradition. It's the one she made with _her_ grandmother. It's kind of funny because the colors of that quilt are black and red, which have always been my favorite colors…it's like she knew me before she knew me."

"What's your colors?"

"Yellow and orange."

"Is it finished yet?" Quinn seemed to regret the question almost as soon as it was spoken, and I tried not to let myself think too hard about it, but I still had to turn my head away for a second. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," I said, shrugging it off. "I've still got a few squares left to do." I might have been putting off the final few, holding out hope that abuela would change her mind, at least about this, and finish them with me. "You don't really finish it, not until your first born is born anyway, because you're supposed to make a square from your veil, and the very last one is supposed to be from their first baby blanket so the whole thing comes full circle."

I could see Quinn searching for something to say so the silence didn't allow me to think about thoughts of my abuela, and the things I would miss out with her, and her face took on a kind of comical smile, very Brittany like. "Hey, so I just had like the best idea ever. Why don't we collect things during this trip to put on some of your squares? That way we get to take them on this trip with us?"

She waited for me to respond. Eventually I gave a smile.

* * *

><p>"<em>Thank you<em>, daddy Fabray," I whispered as the door opened to our suite. The bellhop had escorted us, quickly, through the lobby of the hotel, and up to our room, where he deposited my and Quinn's suitcases, and waited for a tip. Quinn lightly bit down on her lip for a second before she handed over a bill, and he left the room. "These are some nice digs," I said, appreciatively.

Quinn bypassed the living room and went directly into the bedroom where there were two Quinn beds waiting for us. "Which one do you want?"

Figuring that it was likely that I would be going in and out of the room all night, I chose the one closest to the door so if I did wake up in the middle of the night, I didn't have to worry about disturbing Quinn.

"Breakfast, dinner, and theatre tickets are included in the package, but if we want to catch dinner before the show, we need to be down in about an hour and a half."

I caught myself before I dropped down onto the bed. "What show?"

"It's what you do when you stay here," Quinn explained. "You stay here, you take in a show at the Barter, the theatre I know you saw on our way in, and the tickets are already paid for, so we're going."

"I didn't realize I made you trip dictator. I didn't even hear a please."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Santana, will you come to the free show that is right across the street instead of us sitting in this room doing the same thing that we could be doing if we had stayed behind in Lima?"

"You didn't say please," I reminded her.

She batted her eyelashes. "Please?"

"No." Quinn looked like she was about to blow her lid, but I quickly stopped her. "I'm kidding, Blondie. When're you going to learn to take a joke?"

"Go get ready."

"What fresh hell are you making me sit through anyway?"

Quinn slid across the bed to the nightstand where the tickets were waiting for us in one of those pass books that the waiter hands you when you receive your bill. "Les Misérables. Now, go!"

"Don't start thinking you can boss me around."

She rolled her eyes as I headed toward the bath. When I got out, she was on the phone with guess who.

"-I haven't not yet. If you make a list I'll get San to take us where ever you want when we get there."

My eyes scrunched. The hell. Quinn was out of her mind if she really thought I was going to let Rachel drag me all around New York. By the time we made it back east I was sure I was going to be museumed out. "Guess what we're going to see? Les Mis. I don't know, let me look."

Quinn took the tickets from the holder, flipping them over. "It doesn't say, but I'll text you when we get over there and find out. How was the play you saw with your dads?"

I cleared my throat, drawing hazel eyes over to my own. "Are you going to get in the shower?"

Quinn acted like she didn't hear me. "It's a musical about being pregnant? Sounds…interesting." On what planet? I threw a pillow at Quinn this time, and pointed toward the bathroom. She shot me daggers. "Hey, Rae, Santana's being impatient. I'll call you tomorrow, okay sweetie?" There was a significant pause in which Quinn looked startled, her eyes fluttering. "Love you, too. Good night."

"Okay you seriously have some explaining to do," I said once the phone call was over.

"Not now, San." She checked the time on the phone. "Why didn't you tell me it was this late?"

Quinn disappeared into the bathroom, but I didn't hear the sound of running water. 20 minutes later Quinn emerged. She took one look at the dress that I had picked to wear and strode purposely over to her own bag. "Here."

I don't know what was more amusing to me, the fact that Quinn had brought an evening gown on this road trip, or the fact that she had a spare. Her dress clashed horribly with her pink hair and I loved it.

The theatre was right across the street from the hotel, and yet Quinn insisted we leave a half hour before the show. It was such a Quinn thing to do. We found our seats, and made small talk until the lights went down in the theatre, and the show began. I didn't have very high hopes considering the town, but I was pleasantly surprised. It wasn't the greatest acting of all time or anything, but it was worth the trip across the street. When it was over Quinn and I meandered out along with the rest of the theatre crowd many of whom were heading back to the hotel.

"Okay, I've read the book, I've seen the movie version with Liam Neeson, and now I've watched the play, but I just don't get it."

I could see school yard Quinn emerging. "It's about the common man's struggle against a system that is unfairly punitive,"

I held up a hand, halting her. "I _know _what the play is about, Q, that's not what I said. I said I don't understand it. I don't get why Javert just couldn't let Valjean go. Valjean proves over and over again that he's a good man but Javert refuses to see that. Even after he saves his life, he still has this compulsion to turn in this man, to believe that he is still an outlaw despite the fact that most of the time Valjean has gotten into trouble because he was attempting to help other people out. He's so convinced that Valjean is a reprobate that he kills himself rather than turn him in because he just can't let him go. I don't understand that. Why can't he just live his own life?"

"I think that that is the point of the tale; that we each have our Jean Valjean, that one lifelong driving force that, be it right or wrong, we simply can't let it go. That it carries us through all of our actions, clouds our judgments, keeps us from our own destinies, and maybe just becomes the only thing that we seek instead of finding our own happiness. The name means the miserable ones after all."

I sat contemplating that. Every time I saw, read, viewed the story, I just wanted to go champion for Valjean and just like kick the asses of those who kept getting in his way. I understood the appeal the story had personally to me: redemption. Who didn't need to be redeemed of past sins at some point in their life? And yet there were plenty of the Javert's of the world, people who didn't believe that other people should be redeemed from past actions. And even though the story took place nearly 200 years ago, we still criminalized poverty and viewed those with a criminal past as if they should suffer for the rest of their lives. And it wasn't even like Javert had a change of heart at the end; he still couldn't see Valjean's humanity, just his own inability to let him go. To me, it was madness.

"So what's yours?" I questioned of Quinn.

Quinn's expression wrinkled. "What's my what?"

"Your Jean Valjean?"

She chewed on a strand of her pink hair. "I think it might be Lucy. Except instead of chasing after her, it's more like I'm trying so desperately to get away from her." Quinn's look clouded over, and I could see how deeply she was thinking about it. "I'm not sure why, either, because it wasn't like there was anything wrong with her, per se, it just that she wasn't what people wanted, what they expected from me. And I guess instead of figuring out what I expected from myself, and being okay with it, I changed to be something different. Skank stage was no different. Even though I was rebelling against the me people expected, I still had this concern of what people thought. It wasn't even a real rebellion. I didn't stop maintaining my grades, I didn't get involved with illegal behavior other than like the underage drinking and smoking, and I didn't even break curfew, because even then I didn't want to screw up my future. And we both saw how long my rebellious stage lasted anyway.

"I think there's always going to be a part of me that's going to be worried about that, no matter what I have going for me, I'm constantly going to be looking over my shoulder, you know?"

"And you'll always have me to point out how disingenuous you're being if you ever get to big headed."

Quinn pushed me. "Yeah, punk, I'll always have that; no matter how much I achieve, I'll always have you to tell me that it ain't shit."

"Damn straight."

A sad look briefly took over her facial expression, but then she blinked and it was gone. "Okay, your turn."

I shook my head. "This isn't Oprah."

She stared me down, but we both knew I'd spill even before she fixed me with a look. I gave a shrug of my shoulders, going for casual. "I think for me it's sex."

Quinn gave an exasperated roll of her eyes. "No, listen, I'm being for real." I insisted. "Not sex, directly, but this desire to always be connected to someone else intimately. I kind of always attributed my promiscuity to being afraid to let my true self show, you know being gay and people knowing it? But after Brittany turned me down, I spent a lot of time thinking about it, and I don't think that that's all of it." I shrugged. "I like sex. I like having it; it's like exercise that feels good. It's about more than just getting off, though, it's about having a partner, and listening to what they need, that rush you get when they ask you for more, and supplying it for them, and that look on their face when you're doing everything right."

I struggled trying to fully articulate what I was talking about. "There's more to it, though. It's not like the act so much as it's that connection. I'm not good with the small things, like holding hands, random acts of affection unnerve me, but Britt and I, we don't need to have sex. We can just be, and that's cool with me. Once, we both just stripped down, and laid together naked, and that was it. That was just as good for me. I don't have to have sex with her, but I need some form of human contact, and I'm sure I always will, maybe more than most people."

"S, you do realize that you wanting to connect with people doesn't make you less than normal, right? That it's normal to want to connect with your fellow human beings?"

"But I don't _want_ to connect with my fellow human beings. I'm never going to be the kind of person who likes having a whole lot of people surrounding me. Most people annoy the hell out of me, and if something annoys me, I don't see the point in putting up with it just because it's a social convention. Like with Rachel. For the most part, I think that Rachel is a god-awful human being-"

"Hey, lay off of her."

I put my hands up. "Whoa, sorry, I didn't mean to insult your girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend," Quinn snapped. Quinn's face got that hard edge that meant that she was dead serious. What the hell was going on with those two? "Just lay off of her."

"If you would have let me finish, you would get that I wasn't trying to bash her. I'm trying to explain what I mean. I get shit all of the time for being a bitch, but she's just as ruthless and she gets a pass. I don't because I don't like that she acts like her dreams are that much better than anyone else's, and that her goals supersede everyone else's, when that's a load of crap. She still doesn't think there was anything wrong with what she did to Sunshine Corazon. I get it, she has big dreams, and sometimes it makes her do crazy things, but we all dream. We all have hopes for the future, and yea, she works really hard for what she wants, but she's helped a whole lot by the fact that she has a natural talent that she didn't do anything to earn other than being lucky enough to born with that gift. And you're just freaking cracked if you think that only the people who deserve things are the ones who work hard for them. If that were the case the Kardashians wouldn't be what they are.

"Yet, she gets to be a 'nice' person because she hides her true feelings, and I'm a bitch because I say them when I think them instead of pretending that I don't feel the way I do."

"Because most people understand that it doesn't hurt you to express a little more tact sometimes."

"There's tact, and there's being fake as hell. I don't see the point in lying for the sake of being polite."

"Whatever, Santana, just lay off of Rachel, okay? Think what you want about her just keep it to yourself around me."

There was a time when Quinn and I could spend the night bashing Rachel together. Granted that hadn't happened in a long time, but still. "Wow, I didn't know she was the freaking holy mother now. You might be all gaga about her for some strange reason, but I still get to have an opinion about her. Are you this freaking protective when she talks shit about me?"

"She doesn't talk shit about you! She's actually really fond of you, and when you put her picture in your locker she was really touched by that."

"I don't even know what that was about."

"It was about being happy about being able to be friends with you! If you would give them the chance, a lot of people would be friends with you. Rach, didn't grow up with a mother, so she's kind of desperate for female companionship. That's all it is. I don't know why you are so obsessive about the fact that she and I are friends."

"Because it doesn't sound like you two are just friends."

"Then get your ears checked."

Quinn disappeared into the bathroom. I put my laptop on the charger, and reached for my phone to do the same when I must have disturbed the screen because it came on, showing my missed texts. With the exception of a random text from Puck inviting me (and probably all of the Glee kids) to a party tonight, every other one was from Brittany. I clicked on one of them. **_Ducky_, _I know you're mad at me, but please don't be for too long. I love you. _ **

I toyed with my phone, fiddling with it, my fingers itching to call her. I didn't like the idea of going to sleep without talking to my girlfriend, but I wasn't sure if I had a good enough handle on my emotions to talk to Brittany yet. I didn't want to be short with her or unresponsive when she attempted to tell me something. If I was talking to her, I wanted to be there in the conversation with her, and I wasn't ready for that. Not yet. I needed a few more days. I needed some time to not feel as if she had betrayed me, or as if she had just been so oblivious to my feelings that she hadn't felt the need to tell me that…

I never asked Brittany to move with me to Kentucky. That had been all her. She had gotten me the scholarship, and she had gotten the job at the factory. If she hadn't dropped that bomb at dinner, she probably would have been looking into us getting an apartment, and you didn't do that unless you wanted to be with someone right? Then why had she kept this from me? That's what I didn't understand. Brittany had never kept anything from me before. Not really. But she'd just been so distant lately. First with that whole graduation thing; I didn't even know about that until the three of us, me, my mom, and Britt, were out having dinner together. Before we'd gone out, I had just succeeded in convincing my mom that Brittany was actually good for me, and her dinner revelation had done nothing to prove that to my mom.

The question, though, was where do we go from here? Of course I didn't want to break up with her, I loved her, she was my first love. I could see her being my only love, even. I just wanted her to talk to me. And it hurt that she didn't. I just needed a day or two to get over that hurt. So we couldn't talk right now.

Quinn came out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam, body and hair wrapped in two fluffy hotel towels. Quinn looked up, and paused. She saw me with my phone in my hand, but I wasn't sure what look I was wearing that made her stop in her tracks.

"What's up?"

I let the phone drop, and shook my head. "Nothing. Did you even leave me some hot water?"

"You took a shower right before we left. What's wrong?" I ran away from the concern in her voice, sliding past her to get into the bathroom.

Even though I had taken a shower a few hours ago, I took an extra long soak in the spa bath, staying in it a long time after I started to prune. When I finally emerged from the water, I peeked my head out of the bathroom, looking for Quinn.

"Who are you looking for?" Quinn's voice came out of nowhere, and I almost threw my hands up in surprise.

"What the hell?"

"What were you going to do, hide out in the shower until I went to sleep?"

"I wasn't hiding. I was washing small town mediocrity off of me."

"What happened while I was in the shower?" she demanded.

Again I pushed past her, this time to my suitcase to get something to wear to bed. "Nothing, happened."

"Who were you talking to?"

I dropped my towel and started to get dressed. "No one." Quinn got in my way and refused to budge. "Do you mind? I'm trying to get dressed."

"I'm not moving until you tell me."

"What is this the feelings tour?"

"This is me not letting you get away with your usual shit for the whole summer. You have the tendency to bottle things up until you just explode and I don't want to have to deal with it, especially if we're going to be trapped in a car with each other for long periods of time. If I'm dealing with your attitude, I want to know why."

I stepped back, pulling the closet shirt in reach to me. I wasn't avoiding, I was covering up so I wasn't standing in front of Quinn in nothing but my towel and underwear. I pulled the shirt over my head, and sat down on my bed, Quinn sitting across from me. "I was debating on whether or not I should text Brittany back."

A perfect eyebrow arched towards Quinn's hairline. "Why wouldn't you?"

I sighed. "What am I supposed to say to her? I don't know where things stand between us right now."

"Did you…you guys didn't break up did you?"

I shook my head. "Brittany probably doesn't even think that there's a problem. So is this enough sharing for the day?" I snapped.

"What's the problem?"

"I really don't want to talk about it, so can we please not? Can we just watch a movie or something?"

I could tell Quinn didn't want to let it go, but instead she just nodded, and I pulled my laptop out, connecting to the Wi-Fi provided via Russell's generosity. Quinn got comfy on her bed, and I crawled up next to her, flipping through the movie titles available on Netflix. "Here we go," I said, settling on a movie. "B_etter than Chocolate."_

"Is that a lesbian movie?" Quinn questioned knowingly, her lip curling upwards.

"Duh."

"I'll pass."

I laughed. "Why? Because it's a lesbian movie?"

"Well, yeah," Quinn said surprisingly. "Lesbian movies are like romcoms; they're all the same. Girl meets girl. Girl likes girl. Girl spends five minutes staring at girl she likes. Girl's too chicken shit to tell other girl that she likes her, so they become 'friends'. Montage of them lying around and talking in the grass being 'deep'; mention of an obscure book that they've both read. Girl becomes jealous of other girl's 'friend'. They mess up their friendship. Sad 30 minutes full of them living life apart until that tearjerker moment where there's an angry confession of love. They kiss, make up, have close up sex, credits roll.

"Honestly, I'm tired of coming out stories, I'm tired of first sex, I'm tired of angsty, falling in love with your straight best friends, and depressing stories…you know what I want to see? I want to see a lesbian couple that's actually together. Not getting together, not working things out, just together doing normal, everyday things. Girls have boyfriends in movies, and it's NBD. I want to see the same in a lesbian film. I want to know what happens after that 'big moment'. Are there no actual lesbian relationships?"

I couldn't help my abrupt laugh because she kind of had a point, but then I gave her a funny look because... "Geez, Quinn, how many lesbian movies have you watched? Trying to slip into the Sapphic world are we? I knew you were checking me out in the locker room."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Oh, please, San. If I was interested in you, I'd be bold enough to say it. Have you ever known me to not go after something I wanted? And if I ever _did_ want your ass, you would give it up in seconds, so let's not pretend you wouldn't."

I thought about it. "Yea, but only so I could tell everyone that I popped your lesbian cherry."

Quinn gave a mysterious smile, before shaking her head. "You're so typical, Santana. Pick something else for us to watch."

My eyes narrowed. "What's that smile mean?" She didn't answer. "Wait. You really expect me to believe that you experimented with the ladies?"

Her smile got more infuriating, but she didn't answer. I pushed her away. "You're so full of shit, Fabray."

"If you say so, Santana."

I went flipping through for an action flick, but I couldn't get over Quinn's words. "You're serious? You've slept with a girl before? Why didn't you tell me? Who was it? Is that why you're being so moony about Berry? Did you sleep with her?"

"For Christ's sake, Santana!"

It kind of occurred to me that if Quinn really was like, bi or gay or something, I might be being insensitive right now, when really who was better to help her through this than me? "If you did, you could tell me. Like I wouldn't judge you for it. Well, I'd judge you because it's Berry, but not for being like gay or anything."

"Rachel is a friend. How hard is it to understand that?"

Unfathomable. "Very hard. You're telling me you don't even have a _little_ crush on her. The slightest desire to lock lips?"

"You are absolutely ridiculous."

I tried to imagine finding Rachel attractive. "I mean, I guess if you close your eyes, and wear ear plugs, and ignore her taste in clothes then, I guess she's kind of…like, no joke, _what_ do you see in her?"

"Give it a rest," Quinn said sternly, "I don't like Rachel like that."

"If you did, it wouldn't be the end of the world. Even though that's like gross and all, I love you so I guess I could tolerate her."

"I'm serious, Santana, drop it."

"And I hear she can be endearing sometimes. Finn likes her but then Finn's like a rock..."

Quinn let out an angry breath, and I could tell instantly that I pushed her too far. "You really, really don't know when to drop something, do you? I'm not gay for Berry, Santana. Do you really, honestly want to know why I like her, Santana?"

"I'm dying to know."

Quinn shook her head. "I'm friends with her because she's _nice_ to me, okay? She was nice, and she was there. And she makes me feel smart, and pretty, and good about myself. She makes me feel desirable, and yeah, maybe I get off on it a little, but only because no one else is busy trying to do that okay! In her own way, she tried to be there for me during my pregnancy-,"

"She ratted you out!"

"She apologized for that! She didn't know that my parents were going to kick me out, and she helped me after they did that, too. She didn't toss me aside, and she didn't forget that we were best friends just because I slept with her boyfriend! She didn't call it a lizard baby when I sat up at night needing to talk to someone about the fact that I gave up something that rested underneath my heart for nine months, and she let me cry about the fact that anything in the world could be happening to my child, and I wouldn't know! I don't have to compete against her, and I don't have to worry about her stabbing me in the back. Since you wanted to know why I'm friends with her so badly, that's why Santana!"

I drew back. "So you like her because she's not me?"

"Will you fucking get over yourself! Everything in the world isn't about you! I like her because she's her. And I like you because you're you. And I can't believe that I have to say this to someone who's 18 years old, but you're my best best, and you will always be my best best, but like it or not you're hard, Santana, and sometimes I just want easy."

I slammed my laptop closed, moving over to my bed. "Well, sorry you couldn't go on a road trip with easy," I threw at her.

"San," Quinn said irritably. I rolled over, turning my back to her. "God, really? You're always talking about throwing truth at people, but when it comes back to you, you're going to act like a baby about it?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't. I didn't want to be a part of this conversation anymore. I knew she was right. Quinn and I had done our fair share of hurting each other, neither of our hands were clean there, but that didn't mean that I would ever stop caring that I hadn't been there for my friend when she needed me the most. And being reminded that Rachel freaking Berry had been there for her when I hadn't, it hurt. It hurt that Quinn saw me as difficult, that I wasn't the friend she needed. I didn't hold any delusions of winning person of the year, but that Quinn preferred Rachel to me…

I felt the bed dip behind me. Seconds later Quinn's arm came down around my waist. She rested her chin on my shoulder. "San…" she teased.

I tried to throw her. "Get off!"

She tightened her grip on me. "San, come on!" Her voice dipped to sing-song. "I don't want you to go to bed, mad at me, and I don't want to go to bed mad at you." She waited for me to finish the song. I didn't.

Quinn pushed down on my shoulder until I turned around, so I was on my back, looking up at her as she hovered over me. "What was the rule of the road for this road trip?"

I tried to turn away from her gaze, but she pulled my head back and held it so I couldn't look away. "We're not trying to hurt the other," I obliged.

Slowly, she lowered herself on top of me, forcing me to put my arms around her, so she wouldn't fall off. Quinn laid her head on my chest. "I wouldn't be here, like this, with Rachel. I don't share everything with Rachel, and God forgive me for saying this, but I don't think I would last a road trip alone with Rachel. San, you're like a mirror; you reflect back at me who I am, I need that, I need your truth, I need you. That doesn't stop me from needing her sometimes, too. You reflect back me, she reflects back the person I wish I was, that perfect Quinn Fabray."

I adjusted us, making it more comfortable for the both of us. "You'll never be perfect Quinn Fabray."

Quinn sighed. "And that's why I need Rachel from time to time."

"I like you imperfect." Quinn took a second to stare me down. "You realize that right? That you don't have to be perfect around me, and I would never expect it from you. I was there when you weren't, and I'm still here. Whether you're on top, or on the bottom, I'm always going to be that friend who doesn't go away. Like it or not."

Quinn burrowed her head further into my chest. "I'm counting on that."


End file.
